


Havin' fun? Drabbles and Ficlets

by Cyberrat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Boot Worship, Breast Fucking, Breathplay, Cuckolding, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Drabble, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Femdom, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Intercrural Sex, Lactation Kink, Lingerie, M/M, Male Lactation, Master/Pet, Nipple Piercings, Orgasm Denial, Oviposition, Pegging, Pining, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Public Sex, Rimming, Shimadacest, Sibling Incest, Slut Shaming, Subspace, dom!Ana, fat!McCree, hairy!McCree, insecure!Reaper, slutty!Hanzo, slutty!Reaper, sub!Reaper, sub!Reinhardt, virgin!Hanzo, virgin!McCree, werewolf!McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 192
Words: 179,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transfering my Tumblr drabbles over; a lot of worship for Hanzo's tits and Reaper's thighs, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. McCree/Hanzo Out in the open

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting to transfer my Tumblr drabbles over to AO3; I'll polish them a little, but this one has been kind of rambling at the beginning, so I'm sorry for that :O
> 
> Tags will be added when I add new chapters and remember what I need to tag it for. The chapters have nothing to do with each other unless it is clearly stated.
> 
> \---
> 
> Anonymous said: "Oh God, your McHanzo headcanons are lewd as hell, I love it. Here is one: Jesse making Hanzo wear a buttplug when they are going to some festival for example, and then he fucks him on some backstreet, enjoying that he is nice and ready for him."

I want it to be in Hanzo’s home where they parade huge paper dragons through the streets and everything is alight with colorful lights and they have small shops with Takoyaki and sticky sweet rice balls, and just everything is very traditional and beautiful and happy.

And in one of the side streets just outside the radius of the light, McCree has Hanzo against a wall, prosthetic hand cupping his neck, pressing him face first against the rough house wall and keeping him very firmly where he wants him. Hanzo’s pants are bunched around his metal knees, and they’re wide and loose enough not to hinder McCree at lifting Hanzo’s leg with a hand gripping his thigh, pulling it up high and to the side, marveling at Hanzo’s flexibility - and the sight of his ass; that dark space between his cheeks glistening and wet with lube. So alluring; teasing him into exploration.

“Do it quick,” Hanzo is whispering forcefully, head turned towards the mouth of the alley, dark eyes glistening like liquid tar from the light shining in. He’s watching people meander by, talking animatedly, and he should be indignant that McCree has no virtue and wants to defile him in such a degrading manner, but in actuality he wants it just as much, and has put up no fight other than pretending to be annoyed.

When Jesse finally fucks him, that ridiculous, heavy belt buckle is slapping against Hanzo’s ass because McCree has opened his jeans just enough to get his dick out. He's jerking against Hanzo in quick, jerking thrusts that drag Hanzo's chest against the wall and leave his nipples tingling and raw feeling. His body is protesting against the stretch; tightening and clenching - positively suckling on McCree's cock as it reams him quick and rude enough to make it burn.

Hanzo's head is still turned towards the mouth of the alley but he’s not really looking at the people anymore, or thinking about the possibility to get caught; he’s swimming away, coasting on the feel of McCree’s thick cock spearing him open and seemingly pushing in even deeper than usual in this position. It’s like he’s fucking right into Hanzo’s belly and warming him up from the inside, and he almost wants to stop clawing at the house he’s leaning against, so he can reach down and cup his belly and feel whether there actually is a bulge from McCree ramming him.

McCree is grunting softly behind him; a strange half-laugh caught in the sound - and when Hanzo manages to turn his head enough to peek, there’s a big, self indulgent grin on McCree’s face, teeth viciously dug into the butt of his cigar, eyes staring down where he’s deep dicking Hanzo in public just like he probably always fantasized about in his too long showers.

“ _Gahdamn plug’s been the best decision of mah life_ ,” McCree croons between clenched teeth and Hanzo huffs in annoyance, even as his body flushes with pride and excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	2. McCree/Hanzo Breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Your mchanzo drabble was hot as melting lava! But how about some breath play? Hanzo loving the feel of the metal hand on his throat while being fucked. Makes his vision blur and he starts to see stars in his eyes ;)"

Hanzo is groaning - not really in rhythm with McCree’s deep, nudging thrusts; just a constant, low sound as his hips are curled up onto Jesse’s lap, prosthetic calves gently bouncing in the air next to McCree’s shoulders.

He looks gorgeous with his arms up and against the head of the bed, keeping himself from getting fucked against the wall, and inadvertently giving McCree the best goddamn fucking view of his chest, bouncing with each of his abrupt, little thrusts. 

It’s hard to fuck as hard as he wants to when he’s kneeing and has the considerable weight of Hanzo’s lower body weighing him down, but he can’t dispute how good it feels like that; how he’s so deep, it feels like he’s able to basically crawl inside Hanzo at this rate.

It’s without his own accord that his metal arm starts to wander - from a loving squeeze to Hanzo’s thickly muscled thigh it slides up and up, giving the bouncing pecs a searching grope that has Hanzo grin before the smug expression slackens once again, another groan dragged out of his chest by the slow, insistent motion of McCree’s cock.

He likes the sounds Hanzo makes during sex. Loves them, even.

It’s just… it’s just that he also loves them when they’re choked and gasping. When Hanzo’s face goes a little red from the oxygen restriction like it was doing now, drool slicking from the corner of his mouth as he stares up at Jesse with glassy, dark eyes.

He’s swallowing - Jesse can see his Adam’s apple bobbing right next to his digging metal thumb - but he’s sure he’s doing it just to feel the restriction even more.

His breath comes labored and wheezing, liquid eyes becoming even wetter when he involuntarily tears up and cries a few lonely tears that soak into the greying hair at his temples.

His cock is dark and angry looking when McCree can drag his eyes away from Hanzo’s face for just a second. He feels light headed - as if he were the one getting choked.

He still can’t believe Hanzo is letting him do this to him; is actively seeking it out sometimes - dragging McCree’s prosthetic arm towards his throat with a needy look in his eyes that he would never be able to argue with.

“Gonna kill me someday,” he growls and rocks into him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	3. McCree/Hanzo Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and McCree have had a little bet; McCree now enjoys the spoils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I asked [ bicosporn ](http://bicosporn.tumblr.com/) if I could write a lil ficlet accompanying one of their delicious delicious drawings and they were soooo sweet and allowed me to.
> 
>  
> 
> [ This here is the piece I chose. ](http://bicosporn.tumblr.com/post/145131106374/bicobooty-throws-myself-in-the-trash-bin)

McCree sits back, eyes contemplative on his prize, and tongue rolling the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. He hadn’t lit it - just kept it between his teeth because he was used to it, and because he liked the look of disdain on his pet’s face whenever he put a new one between his lips.

He slowly curled the leash around his fist and watched Hanzo silently fight against the heavy pull of his collar, struggling to keep upright and proud and not let himself get dragged between McCree’s lazily spread knees.

“Aawww you don’t look happy, darling,” ( _daaahlin’_ it came out in a thick, sirupy drawl), “Don’t tell me ya’re a sore looser?” ( _loosah_ \- he loved the way Hanzo’s glittering, dark eyes narrowed dangerously).

“I’m nothing of the sort.”

But _oh_ he was. McCree could see it in the tightness of his body and the petulant moue of his lips, which he wisely didn’t mention, because he might've been reckless but he didn’t have a death wish per se.

“Ya look gorgeous, babydoll,” he croons, trying to soothe the ruffled feathers and actually managing it somewhat as well; Hanzo practically preens - in a discreet, underhanded fashion as he tilts his chin up haughtily and pushes his chest out further, making the rope he was bound with dig deeper into his pecs.

McCree half-groans half-laughs at the sight, hand falling carelessly between his legs to give the bulge of his cock a loving squeeze through his pants.

“Damn you’re gorgeous. Jus’ look at ‘em tits of yours.” He can see a faint flush suffusing Hanzo’s cheeks, and grins lopsidedly at the averted eyes. His pet loves and hates his vulgarity in equal measures.

McCree slowly turns the wrist of his prosthetic arm, fist well visible between them as he curls the leash around his knuckles once more.

“C’mere. You look delicious and I wan’ a piece of that. Winner gets the spoils and all that, ain’t ah right?”

He is delighted when Hanzo does move; obedient like a puppy as he shuffles forward, carefully keeping his balance what with his arms bound behind him.

McCree’ll never get tired of seeing this eagerness to serve and be used in this particular man. 

“If ah didn’t know _bettah_ , I’d say you’re enjoying your little predicament quite a bit,” Jesse practically purrs. He reaches out and finally touches what he caught himself for the evening; fingers warm and scratchy from gun calluses, as he unceremoniously cups Hanzo’s left pec and drags his thumb across that ever exposed nipple that will drive him wild one of these days. It’s plump and tan, and McCree wants to suck on it until it’s swollen and Hanzo squirms.

Hanzo doesn’t dispute it this time. His liquid eyes are fixed on McCree’s face in something that looks almost trance like. His lips fall open when Jesse drags his thumb across his nipple yet again - featherlight and tickling this time -, feeling it hardening eagerly for him.

“Slutty,” he comments, a giddy kind of euphoria spreading through his belly when Hanzo closes his eyes and looks like he’s trying not to bite his lips. He sways forward on his knees, and needily presses the smooth swell of his pec into McCree’s fondling hand.

When McCree tugs lovingly first at the sensitive nipple, then more insistently on the leash in his hand, Hanzo follows easily. Willingly. He strains upwards onto his knees, and follows the pull towards his captor, deliciously naked body pressing against Jesse’s clothed front. He lets his head fall back to expose neck and collar - puts himself on a fucking platter for McCree to sample just as he damn well pleases.

“Gorgeous,” McCree mumbles indistinctly. He drags fingers along the line of Hanzo’s jaw, then gently scratches through his neatly kept goatee.

“Your team needs to loose more often in trainin’ if that is what ah get for bein’ a good boy.” He cups the side of Hanzo’s face, thumb rubbing through the thick, greying hair at his temples.

Hanzo huffs and whispers something Japanese. It doesn’t sound flattering at all, but it makes McCree grin all the more.

“Ah think ah know a bettah use for that smart, little mouth of yours…” he promises, hand falling to his large belt buckle to open it. He doesn’t miss the way Hanzo’s dark eyes widen like a cat’s when it sees prey, and he can’t keep the smug grin from his lips.

Gorgeous, kept pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	4. McCree/Hanzo Chest worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘tis basically McCree being really into Hanzo’s tits and having a dirty mouth.

McCree hadn’t listened to Winston’s briefing for a good five minutes, and he supposed there would be some people pissed off about his lack of attention, but really he was confused about how anyone was able to concentrate when Hanzo was making a show out of himself right there on the other side of the room for everybody to see.

McCree sure as hell wasn’t able to focus on anything else other than Hanzo’s chest since Winston had moved down from the dais, and Hanzo had moved with him to keep him in sight, rotating minimally but just enough for this poor, helpless bastard to see that he’d crossed his arms sometime during the lecture, and…

…and to be honest, these days it took little else for Jesse to get hot and bothered since he’d finally eroded Hanzo’s resistance a couple weeks ago. Hanzo was like a drug.

So Jesse just stood there, leaning against the wall and pretending he was bored to hell listening, when in reality he was ogling Hanzo across the room, face hidden by his wide-brimmed hat, furiously chewing on the toothpick he had taken with him after lunch.

Hanzo’s pecs looked positively plush, squished together as they were between the restricting frame of his biceps. McCree wondered how deep that snug little valley between them could be. How deep the dip would be if he put his mind to squeezing Hanzo’s pecs together for his own selfish benefit.

He thought about cupping Hanzo’s chest; basically taking generous hand fulls of the smooth, defined muscles and kneading them; rubbing his palms across pouty nipples that would get hard and needy at the slightest attention, as he’d been able to confirm for himself. 

He thought about straddling Hanzo’s ribcage; of having this proud princeling beneath him, looking up at him with dark, cool eyes that could start burning so quickly - Hanzo’s temper always close beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

McCree grit his teeth, feeling the toothpick start to splinter and warp. He pulled one knee up and put his foot on the wall behind him just to give the heavy weight of his lazily pulsing cock some room, and also shield his predicament from the others.

It was then that Hanzo moved, and the light shifted across the swell and dip of his chest, as well as the muscles of his tattooed left arm, showing it off just as much as the rest of his barely clothed-

 _Goddamn_ he was practically naked, wasn’t he?! McCree had been able to attest it himself how easy it was to pull the sleeve of his yukata down from his shoulder, getting it to pool around his waist and giving delicious, free access to his upper body, and…

Jesse jerked out of his - well… obsession, if he was honest - as Torbjörn briefly stumbled into his leg. The briefing was over and the ones attending it were filing out - only McCree remained, carefully adjusting the swollen bulge of his cock, and trying to get his pulse back under control after Hanzo’s… after his… well. After his _display_.

It took him embarrassingly long to realize he wasn’t even alone in the room; that in fact Hanzo was still there, standing on the other side and looking at him with inscrutable dark eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips, half-hidden by the whiskers of the neatly kept beard.

“Ya little bastard,” Jesse whispered, stunned and delighted by the unexpected challenge thrown at his feet. He numbly watched Hanzo leave - then spat out the mangled remains of the toothpick and hurried after him.

It never occurred to McCree how well trained he already was.

.o.

“Na-ah, babydoll.” McCree struggled to hold Hanzo at a distance with the fist full of thick hair he’d grabbed earlier - and then, after Hanzo seemed determined to still get at his price, eyes glittering and mouth invitingly wet: he curled the other one around his cock to shield it. The metal felt blessedly cool against his angrily pounding flesh - especially after the suckling, eager heat of Hanzo’s mouth.

Hanzo’s lips parted, the tip of his tongue peeking out for a second. It looked as if he was about to stretch it out and try to touch it to the dark red head of McCree’s cock, then seemed to think better of it at the last moment and quickly pulled back, eyes flicking up to meet Jesse’s heated stare.

There was a flush across his prominent cheekbones. McCree had no idea what was going on in his head kneeling here in Hanzo’s small Overwatch HQ room, after having enthusiastically sucked McCree’s cock until his throat had bulged with it - McCree had been able to feel it with a hand curled around Hanzo’s throat.

“What is it?” Hanzo’s gaze started drifting back down, then jerked back up again. McCree could feel his cock flex against the unrelenting grip of his metal hand. Hanzo was a fucking drug, and Jesse needed to keep his wits about him so he wouldn’t get dragged down into that swamp.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed his cock a little harder than necessary just to calm down. Hanzo looked delicious kneeling before him and looking up, upper body naked and tattoo dark against his left shoulder.

“Ah think you have somethin’ to make up to me, don’tcha?” 

McCree watched Hanzo’s eyebrows drift together in chagrin, eyes sliding off to the side. McCree grinned, finding his footing once again, and feeling himself settle more firmly into what was happening.

“Did you think I’d just forget what you did? Lookin’ like a little slut; showin’ off your pretty tits to the whole room…”

It was fascinating to see the change in Hanzo’s face; how it slackened a little, the flush lowering from his cheekbones into his cheeks, eyes going even darker as his pupils blew wide. Jesse felt breathless, as if he’d ran for too long and too fast. He’d almost thought he’d be overstepping a boundary, but… seeing Hanzo’s reaction, he felt more secure in what he was about to do.

“Ah know y’ like showing off like a whore,” he crooned, words drawling out like syrup. He finally let go off his cock and instead cupped the side of Hanzo’s jaw, metal thumb dragging across his lower lip. “Why don’t ya show off for me? Show me your gorgeous tits. Been hungry for them for…”

He’s trailing off, never finishing the sentence, as he watches Hanzo move - hands lifting obediently; cupping the undersides of his pecs to slightly shove them together. He looks lewd and obscene and fucking perfect; showing off just like that as if he… as if he just _wanted_ to be pretty and obedient for him - yet at the same time he looked away and to the side, seemingly embarrassed at his own needy display.

“ _Daaahlin’_ ,” McCree groans, cock jerking against his dangling, broad belt buckle. “Get on the fuckin’ bed. Get on the _fuckin’_ bed, Hanzo.”

They nearly trip over each other like goddamn teenagers in their haste.

.o.

“Gorgeous, little slut. Lookit you showin’ off for me.”

McCree couldn’t believe that he was actually doing what he’d been fantasizing about not too long ago; kneeling astride Hanzo’s ribcage and watching him press his pecs together solely for Jesse’s viewing pleasure.

He began to wonder whether he’d hit his head during one of their missions and was maybe lying in a hospital bed somewhere.

The thought flew out of his head when he gently rocked his hips, the head of his dick dragging along the valley Hanzo had created, leaving behind sticky pre-cum.

Hanzo’s nostrils flared as he caught the sharp scent, and his mouth opened on a small, almost shy moan.

“Yeah…” McCree breathed, and then again, with a little euphoric laugh as he moved again, more assured this time, “ _Yeah_.”

It was so easy to reach down and push Hanzo’s hands away; get his own on that glorious chest and knead and push just as he saw fit. Just a couple weeks ago - hell, just a couple _hours_ ago - he hadn’t thought Hanzo would ever let him close enough to do this. 

In the end, though, Hanzo looked downright drunk on the way Jesse used him. His hair was loose and all over the place - thick and dark as ink where it hadn’t greyed yet. It made him look out of it; totally enthralled by the motion of McCree’s cock through the valley between his pectoral muscles. The tips of his ears, whenever they peeked out of the mess of his hair, were bright red, and it struck McCree as shockingly adorable - a word he never thought he'd associate with Hanzo Shimada.

“Help me.. help me,” he chanted, voice low and shot. He dug his fingers into Hanzo’s chest when he immediately moved: obedient and accommodating to McCree’s single-minded pleasure; hands coming up to form a tight roof across McCree’s cock and keep it from slipping out of the gratifyingly plush valley of his cleavage.

“Come…” Hanzo licked his lips and tried it again, eyes flicking up briefly to McCree’s face before staring down again, nearly cross-eyed as he watched the dark red, swollen tip of Jesse’s cock emerge from beneath his hands again and again. “Come closer.”

McCree didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Hanzo straining his head up, tongue out to try and get little licks in across his cock’s leaking tip.

“Oh god, oh god, oh…” He had to bite his tongue to stop babbling, and just kept watching, harsh gasps ripping out of his throat whenever he fucked into the warm, tight tunnel of Hanzo’s hands, and felt the fluttering touch of his tongue against the very tip.

When he came, he did so without warning - and remorse, if he was perfectly honest.

The sight of thick streaks of cum slicking across Hanzo’s chin and getting caught in the dark hair of his beard, was almost better than the burning, tugging sensation of the orgasm itself.

McCree wondered vaguely if Hanzo would ever agree to him taking pictures of his blissed-out cum-streaked face, because McCree thought he’d never seen anything sexier in his damn life - it was enough to motivate his dick into a valiant effort to stay hard.

“Gorgeous slut,” he whispered, dragging the knuckles of his right hand gently across Hanzo’s heated cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	5. McCree/Hanzo Choking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo likes getting choked and being called names.

Hanzo had a habit of staring.

He’d stared when McCree had pushed his legs up, folding him into a gorgeous, little package so he had all the access he could ever want.

He’d stared - even though his eyes had started to tear up a little, and his pupils had blown wide - when McCree had started rubbing his cock along his crack, playfully letting the blunt head catch at his lube wet hole. 

He’d stared at him, mouth falling open for his little, labored pants as McCree had finally started working his cock in, making him stretch, stretch, _stretch_ around the girth.

He’d stared, eyelids growing heavy and cheeks darkening, as he got fucked slow and deep, legs in McCree’s clutching hands, held up and with the knees nearly at Hanzo’s shoulders. 

And he’d kept staring when McCree had come, bucking into him as deep as he could, a low, ragged groan rumbling from his chest, and metal arm gripping hard enough to leave what would become an ugly - pretty - bruise on his thigh.

“Ya like whatcha see?” McCree sighed when he let himself slip to the side and bounced on the bed, hand lazily scratching through the hair on his chest, and, when he saw how Hanzo’s dark eyes followed with their usual intense curiosity, let it slide down his furred belly to where his cock still was half-hard and pink; wet from Hanzo’s gorgeous, little cunt that he was pretty sure wasn’t as cute and small as it had been just half an hour earlier.

He smirked and tugged at the thick bush around his cock, knowing Hanzo was watching all of it. He seemed entranced, too - his metal knees still in the air where his legs hang forgotten, mouth wet and open.

Yes, Hanzo’s staring had been unsettling to the max when they started their little tete-a-tete’s, but McCree soon had learned not to let it bother him too much; maybe even have a little fun.

“Ya like ‘em big…” He pushed one arm behind his head, and watched Hanzo take in the way he played with his cock; holding it in a fist and playing with the dark foreskin to let him see glimpses of the wet, dark red head that had been splitting him open so wide. “’Course you do. You’re a little cockslut - I’ve seen how greedy y’are for it.”

His eyes slid down to Hanzo’s crotch. He could feel his mouth watering at the sight of his dick. As he watched, a thin line of sticky pre-cum started oozing from the tip towards the slick already on his abdomen, making it shiny.

God, but Hanzo was a pretty thing. Even his fucking bellybutton was gorgeous.

“Didn’t come yet, didya? Can’t come without a thick cock spreading you open, babydoll?”

Hanzo groaned low and wrecked and McCree could feel his own cock jerk in his fist. It was the first time that the archer had made a sound tonight. His feet had finally found the mattress but he seemed oddly reluctant to touch himself - his fingers were curled tightly into the sheets, smooth, generous chest straining upward as he started to squirm and threw his head back to expose his throat for Jesse’s viewing pleasure.

“I know, I know,” he crooned soothingly. He let go of himself and rolled towards Hanzo, fingers dancing first across his jawline scratching through his beard, then down towards his throat where he tickled fingertips across his Adam’s apple. “I know what you need, little whore. I can give it to ya. Give ya just what someone like you needs.”

He was still almost tickling - sometimes playfully spreading his hand and giving Hanzo's throat a gentle, affectionate squeeze like an animal would. Hanzo seemed locked in a stalemate; his body was practically vibrating, kept as still as possible, eyes wide and rolled towards Jesse with near pathetic hope. He looked like a spooked colt and it tugged something fierce inside McCree's chest.

“You want my fingers while I do it, gorgeous?” he whispered and wriggled the metal ones in front of Hanzo’s face because for just a moment he looked like he had no idea what was even going on anymore; like all his considerable brain activity had been reduced to the throbbing in the tip of his cock and the way it almost didn’t want to stand up anymore from how heavy with blood it had become.

He nodded slowly, carefully - just a small incline of his chin, as if he was afraid to shield his throat from McCree; as if not having it on easy display would make Jesse reconsider what he was about to do.

How silly.

Jesse could only imagine the dual sensation of getting your windpipe slowly, gently squeezed shut while simultaneously thick, unyielding metal fingers were slipping sinuously inside you.

He watched - and listened - carefully as Hanzo’s eyes rolled up into his head, finally not staring and staring and staring, as his mouth opened and nothing but a low, forced gurgle escaped him. His body was still, then moved; first slow, almost a dream as he carefully unclawed his fingers from the sheets and curled his hands around McCree’s forearm - not restricting, just holding on. Then more insistent, the longer McCree kept him on the edge of stopping his air supply completely, hips bucking violently up and away from the deep, insistent probing of his relentless fingers.

He carefully counted to ten in his head, then let go, listening to Hanzo gulp in sharp breaths of air. His cock, when Jesse looked down, was angry red and smacking against his abdomen - pulling with it a sticky line of pre-cum attached to that stupidly gorgeous belly button, he realized dimly.

He moved a little closer, rubbing the coarse, generous hair of his thigh against Hanzo’s side to ground him a little before he squeezed down once more, the fingers of his other hand shoving in deeply.

“Gonna come getting choked like a cheap three dollar hooker? Gonna come for me like the gorgeous little slut you are? Bet Daddy doesn’t know how his son likes to play dirty in bed. Bet Daddy has no idea how his precious, little heir is spreading his legs and begging for a fat American cock like a cat in heat every. Damn. Night.”

Hanzo’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s not able to breathe at all anymore. There are tears slicking down towards his temples and his hands are clawing at McCree’s arm but not trying to pull him away.

His face is a mask of agony and bliss; sweaty and flushed, sharp teeth gritted and eyebrows drawn together. His feet are scrabbling helplessly as his hips jerk without any coordination, and he only succeeds in making his cock slap noisily against his belly, and the sharp talons on his cybernetic feet rip up the sheet and tangle it around his ankles.

He’s not making any sounds - is not able to - only the wet, wild suckling of his hole and McCree’s loud, labored breathing is to be heard for tortuously long seconds.

It’s only when he crooks his fingers - almost in an afterthought - hooking and rubbing them against the ripe, puffy prostate he’d made an acquaintance with earlier, that the stalemate suddenly brakes.

Hanzo’s eyes snap open wide, body going rigid and arching off the bed not unlike his bow as his cock jerks out thick strings of cum; and for just a second before McCree carefully takes his hand away and watches Hanzo gulp in huge, needy breaths of air, he thinks that he’s never been more pretty than with his dark eyes staring sightless at the ceiling, wet with tears, and his face a sticky, gorgeous mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	6. Soldier: 76/Reaper Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 76 knows who Reaper is...

Of course Jack couldn’t be sure of it. Reaper’s mask never came off; his voice was distorted from behind, whenever he deigned to speak.

He couldn’t be fucking _sure_ but he was all the same - and he could tell nobody.

Nobody would ever know what Jack Morrison - Soldier 76 - knew in his heart: That the killing machine Reaper was his old hated best friend Gabriel Reyes, because Gabriel was _dead_ ; killed, when their base collapsed with the two of them in it over a decade ago.

Only that Jack knew those thighs; he knew those wide, almost feminine hips. He knew them well enough to know that they could only belong to one man, because he’d been intimately familiar with Gabriel’s body when they’d still been young and even more stupid than now.

Nobody would ever know what Jack knew because nobody could know that he’d been staring long enough - obsessively enough - to figure it out after all. That he’d stand in the tiny shower of their Gibraltar base, frantically, rudely jerking his cock while he thought about Gabriel’s… Reaper’s… Gabriel’s… thick thighs. 

How once he’d jumped over his own shadow and had finally done what he’d been fantasizing about for months; had pinned a vaguely protesting Gabriel to his bunk bed and proceeded to kick his legs together so he could fuck between those muscular thighs. How Gabriel’s muscles had rippled; gone hard as he tensed them, squeezing Jack’s cock painfully between until tears had come to his eyes and he’d still not stopped hate-fucking him; hips slapping against Gabriel’s generous, perky ass.

If Jack focused enough, he could still see how obediently Gabriel had kept his head down (and if he thought about it, fucking Gabriel was the only time this asshole could actually do what he was told) and lifted his hips into the punishing thrusts.

He could still tell exactly how wide and perfect Gabriel’s hips had been between his gripping hands, because Jack Morrison knew Gabriel’s body like his own; no- better than his own.

Better than _anybody_. 

Enough to know that their enemy had the same powerful legs; the same swaggering walk with his hips fluidly swaying with liquid grace. The same habit to be a pain in Soldier 76′s ass and still have him intrigued - positively enthralled.

“God fucking _damn_ it,” he growled, fist slamming against the wet shower wall, as he stared down unsatisfied. He’d come almost without him noticing. He grit his teeth and tugged at his white pubes because it was a little painful and he didn’t have the fat ass that he actually wanted to slap and hurt right now.

Fuck Gabriel Reyes - 

…and fuck him for still loving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	7. Soldier: 76/Reaper Illicit activities Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier and Reaper can't keep their hands off each other
> 
> Part 1

It was stupid that they were doing this here in the middle of one of the Overwatch’s bases; it was stupid that they were doing it in the middle of the day; and it was stupid that neither of them had the inclination to even close to door.

Closing the door would involve one of them having to get up and do the stupid track over to the stupid thing while the other one would be able to lounge there and gloat, and… no. Closing the door was no option.

They weren’t even out of uniform. 

Everything was tinged red by Jack’s visor and the sweat was rolling down his cheeks from the exertion and the heaviness of Reaper’s booted feet on his shoulders. Gabriel had placed them there after hectically shoving down his tight pants and from the low growl he’d made, Jack had the nagging suspicion he’d been very close to getting kicked in the head by the combat boots.

Y’ know. Just for good measure.

“Do it,” Gabriel hissed. He’d never been a patient man, after all. Jack would trade in his rifle just to be able to see the expression on his enemy’s face, instead of the sinister visage that was his mask. He looked down in contemplation, watching his fingers twirl around the tight, anticipatory clench of Reaper’s hole _yet again_. He’d tapped against the very center once or twice, with the gratifying effect of having Gabriel nearly lunge off the bunk in his eagerness to spear himself open.

The sheer force of Reaper’s neediness had hit him like a truck.

“No,” Jack said simply, mostly because he just didn’t want to be too complacent with Gabriel’s bratty demands, but also because the way Gabriel moved his hips against the slick pads of his massaging fingers was hypnotizing.

He had barely slipped them inside yet - merely dipping the tips of his fingers to hear Reaper curse and see the way dark mist swirled around his person when his control seemed to slip - , even though he was dying to get into that ass; into the tight, warm clutch that Jack remembered so _well_ from their youth. 

His patience was made so much easier with Reaper’s _impatience_ , though.

Gabriel froze for a second after Jack’s easy denial, apparently having to digest the fact that there _had been_ a ‘no’, before growling and bucking against him, trying to fuck himself onto Jack's lubed up, thick fingers.

The deadly clawed tips of his gloves were ripping at the sheets, easily slicing them into ribbons - until Jack gave one of Gabriel’s thick thighs a sharp slap.

“Stop that. My base, my rules,” he growled, and could’ve sworn he could almost see Gabriel’s fierce scowl through his mask. Gabriel was lying almost awkwardly still, fingers slowly and carefully curling out of the sheets. He was tilting his head minutely, and Jack had the strangest feeling of being appraised. He wondered what was going on in Gabriel’s head. Nonetheless, he wasn’t too old not to use his opponent’s momentary lapse - this somewhat startled, dismayed quiet - to fondle Reaper’s cock and give it a short, tight squeeze that had Gabriel grunt and arch his back.

“In fact - turn around. I want to see something.” His voice was low and rough, tinny from behind his mask, and his heart was pounding something fierce in his throat as he saw Gabriel move without protest. He did hesitate, oh yes, but he didn’t _question_.

Just moved in a stupidly fluid movement, tendrils of darkness curling enticingly around his body as he managed to get onto all fours even though his pants were hobbling him.

Impatience gnawing at him at last, Soldier 76 flung his faceplate to the side, so he’d be able to memorize the sight. Gabriel only grunted once more in surprise when he felt his long, black coat unceremoniously shoved out of the way, then stretched and arched his back to display his ass.

He might’ve been surprisingly complacent with Jack’s demands, but nobody would ever be able to say he was shy about what he wanted - or about how he looked.

“Gabriel-” Jack began, then quickly shut up again because Reaper froze, and Jack could feel for himself how strange the name felt on his tongue after so long. Unwieldy and almost not right. So he fell silent and let his actions speak - hands coming up to grab generous hand fulls of Gabriel’s ass; squeezing and kneading the cheeks with almost painful glee.

God but he’d forgotten this gorgeous ass; those wide, sturdy hips that could take a punishing fuck every day of the week and give back just as good.

“I hate you,” Jack breathed in reverence, one hand fumbling with his zipper and pulling out his cock to let it slap meaty and warm right against Gabriel’s tail bone. He watched with dumb fascination as Reaper immediately lowered his upper body in response, lying his head on his stacked arms. He looked… ridiculous. And cute.

“Yeah?” Jack rasped, slapping his cock against him again, feeling light headed and giddy, and forgetting all about their location and the time of day and how they were practically right in the open even though only one or two other agents resided in this here base. “You like that? Like feeling my cock like this?”

He felt stupid talking that way; he’d never been the best with words, and dirty talk wasn’t exactly his thing - but Gabriel seemed to lap it right up. His back arched down, sturdy hips lifting up towards him in invitation.

The sight of his cock slowly fucking between Reaper’s cheeks was almost too good to be true. Too perfect.

“God damn,” Soldier 76 whispered, hands squeezing the cheeks together around his cock, watching the dark pink head emerge at Gabriel’s tail bone again and again as he slid through the humid crack; glide eased a little by the lube they used earlier.

Gabriel was accommodating enough for a while; a low sound almost like purring coming from him as he rocked back into the touch. Easy and slow - nothing of the earlier bratty impatience to be seen… until, that was, the need seemed to grow once more.

“Okay,” Reaper growled, snapping out of his lethargy, head lifting to look over his shoulder at Jack who was slowly rubbing appraising hands up and down the backs of his thick thighs. “Go on. You had your fun.”

Jack blinked slow and lazy. He felt just right where he was; cock snuggled in that warm, slick space and hands occupied with feeling Reaper up.

“I’m not done having ‘my fun’. Not by a long shot,” he mused, hips twisting and snapping with a little more intent behind it, just to feel Gabriel bodily shudder beneath him, knees sliding farther apart on the bedding as if getting ready to brace himself for the real fucking.

“Jack-” he hissed, sharp and warning - only that it sounded more needy to Jack’s ears. Breathless. _Begging_.

“Yes, that’s it… Just like that,” he purred, leaning over Reaper’s back and nuzzling against the back of his shoulder. “Ask me nice enough and maybe I’ll give you what you’ve come for… demanding a fuck like a bratty, little boy.”

He could feel his belly clench tight in acute want as Gabriel, after moments of tense silence, and with a body going rigid in denial, suddenly tilted his head forward in submission.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock ooze out a sticky bead of pre-cum. _Oh fuck_ , indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	8. Soldier: 76/Reaper Illicit activities Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper can be so sweet when he wants something
> 
> Part 2

Jack thought that he should've probably said something; anything.

Like _I thought you were dead._ Or _I missed you_ ; or _I never stopped thinking of you_ ; or _What the Hell happened to you?!_

Instead what he did was giving the side of Gabriel’s ass a sharp, enthusiastic smack, just so he could see - and _feel_ \- the way the juicy cheeks jiggled against his dick.

Gabriel groaned and arched his back, hips slowly, leisurely moving on their own accord; taking all the work out of Jack’s hands and fucking his cock along the slippery crack of his ass all on his own.

Every now and then he’d lift up too much; until the swollen head was nudged against his pouting hole - and Jack knew full well that this was deliberate; that Reaper tried catching him off guard and somehow get his dick to spear him open without a hand helping out; that greedy little cunt doing its best to mouth at him - but soon he’d hunch down again and let it slip along the warm, smooth trail until it was emerging at the top once more.

His tail bone was shiny with sweat and pre-cum.

He let Jack do to him whatever he desired; let him knead and slap his perky ass cheeks, and reach down to fondle his cock and balls where they were swinging heavy and untended underneath him.

When Gabriel got fucked, he was - for lack of a better word - _sweet_. So accommodating. Maybe even desperate now, after all these years? Desperate to get touched and used like _before_?

“Don’t you want it?”

The voice was low and breathy, and Soldier 76 had trouble to understand the mechanical rasp for a second. Reaper was peeking at him from above his shoulder, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say he was almost _shy_.

 _Fuck_ what he wouldn’t give to see his face.

“Don’t you want to fuck me? I can be… I can be good. I promise.”

Puppy eager.

He pressed his broad shoulders to the bedding and lifted his hips again. Helpfully. Submissive.

When he reached back, Jack didn’t even thick about shying away from the sharp claws tipping the gloves. He simply let Reaper curl his fingers around his cock and squeeze it appreciatively, the tips of his talons carefully scratching through his grey pubes.

“Are you - “ he had to swallow and restrain himself from fucking into the exploring, fumbling grasp of Reaper’s hand. “Are you begging me?”

His hands were still on Gabriel’s hips, though gentler this time; thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles into the dark skin. When Reaper kept silent - not out of anger or stubbornness, he realized; just in contemplation - he let one hand slide between his legs once again; cupping the vulnerable space behind his balls before giving them a gentle, affectionate squeeze.

Gabriel let out a long, rattling breath, his body becoming hazy and dark for a moment before he materialized himself again.

“Yesss,” he hissed, back arching. “I’m begging. Give me your cock, Jack. Fuck me-”

The words get stuck in his throat, when Jack unceremoniously pushes forward, the head of his dick - still held by Gabriel - pressing against his hole with slowly increasing pressure.

He watches breathlessly how the muscles start moving; stretching apart just for him. Submitting and accepting.

Reaper’s hand falls away the second the head of his dick pops in, and he becomes absolutely still.

When Soldier 76 reaches down below, and places one hand on his lower belly, he can feel it barely fluttering with the sharp, little breaths Reaper is taking.

“SSsshhh, Gabe.” He’s not thinking about the unfamiliarity of the name anymore. Gabriel is hot and tight around him; wet with lube as he swallows him down more and more. “I got you. You’ve wanted cock so bad, didn’t you? I give it to you. There you go… _there_ you go. Open up for me.”

 _Good boy_ , he almost wants to say, and accompany it with an friendly squeeze to the back of Reaper’s neck. _Good. Boy._

When he bottoms out, he feels like he can feel Gabriel’s quick, little panting breaths vibrating around his dick. His ass feels good against his hip bones. As plush and muscular as he remembers it.

When he squeezes one of Gabriel’s thick thighs, it is in a subconscious imitation of how they operated in the _before_.

Reaper takes it in stride. He becomes liquid as soon as Jack starts moving; the rigidity of his body giving way to fluid grace as he easily takes the thrusts and leans back into them, low, wrecked groans spilling from his throat.

It doesn’t occur to Jack one second to get him to shut up.

Stupid, stupid, so so stupid.

Gabriel was making him _stupid_.

He was keeping his head down and eyes squeezed shut as he fucked him in sharp, little bursts, hips flicking like he were a much younger man. He almost wants to put one leg up on the creaking bunk for better leverage - to properly mount Gabriel and drill into him from a better angle. Fuck right into his belly and warm him up where he so obviously needed.

“More, more… fuck; Give me your _cock_ , Morrison. _Maldito_ -” He’s cursing in Spanish and squeezing down on Jack’s cock, and _damn_ how could he have ever forgotten what a demanding fuck Gabriel could be? How his muscles could ripple around a cock, milking and greedy for cum…

“Shut _up_ , asshole; I’m giving you just as much as you deserve- I _hate_ you, you damn…”

They’re babbling over each other, hands gripping and bodies straining towards the other as they fuck, and fight.

When Jack blindly grabs for Reaper’s cock, it feels feverish in his hand; like it is too hot to be human; the thick vein on the underside pulsing against his gripping fingers.

He can hear - and god damn _feel it around his cock_ \- when Gabriel suddenly holds his breath at the feeling of Jack’s hand on his dick; and maybe he shouldn’t do it; maybe he should keep Reaper on the edge until he’s begging some more; until he’s a come-dumb mess on Jack’s cock - but it is too tempting, fingers moving easily just the way they’d learned to years and years ago; squeezing harsh just beneath the thick head to get Gabriel to howl low and ragged and jerk almost off his cock as he came in pulsing, warm stripes.

They don’t get to catch their breaths, however, as a slow, oddly muffled _clapping_ permeates the air, followed by a drawl that Soldier 76 knew only too well.

“Well, well, well… if that wasn’t a nice show, I dunno what is.”

Jack slowly turns his head, dread making his chest seize. He’s acutely aware that he’s still balls deep in Gabriel, and hasn’t even gotten to fucking _cum_ yet.

But there McCree is, standing in the doorway of the barracks and with his gloved hands still put together in front of him. His eyes were shielded by the wide brim of his head, but there was a sharp, toothy grin on his face - an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.

“McCree, I…”

“Awww now. Don’t let lil’ ol’ me keep you from enjoying the rest of ya labor. I’ll jus’ be outside, right? After all, we’ll have a mighty lot to discuss when ya come out. Ah think we’ll come to a very… satisfying agreement.”

His grin widened, if possible, just a bit more - and then he simply left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a third part planned (McHanzo, Reaper76 foursome) but not yet written.
> 
> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	9. McCree/Hanzo Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo needs to be very quiet for McCree...

“Shhh, shh, shh,” McCree shushed, metal hand clamping over Hanzo’s mouth, and hips hunching further inward - pushing his cock deeper into the wet, delirious clutch of Hanzo’s body.

He could blearily see Hanzo’s eyes widen - staring at him wide and wet; seemingly so _dumbfounded_ at how deep McCree could reach. How wide he’d fucked him open on his cock, and dragged all those catty, needy noises out of him.

“Ya need to be nice and quiet, _dahlin’_ ,” he whispered. He sounded drunk - felt drunk - even though he’s only had one beer. Hanzo was getting to his head.

He was moving constantly; muscles rippling and working around his cock. _Suckling_ on his dick like he still hadn’t got used to the meaty girth. “God damn,” he whispered and jerked against Hanzo without having pulled out before hand. The reaction was as instantaneous as it was beautiful - Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut with the jolt of his body, and he shouted against McCree’s prosthetic palm. His sensors picked the vibrations up and made them tickle through his arm up towards his shoulder.

McCree grit his teeth, mashing his hand more firmly around Hanzo’s jaw, keeping him nice and quiet as he began moving again. There was nothing fluid about his fucking - his hips were jerking in hunching, little motions that kept him from actually moving too far out. 

He was fucking Hanzo on just a couple centimeters of his dick, mostly simply keeping him full, and Hanzo went _wild_ for it. He was flushed and sweaty, the bruises McCree had sucked into his chest standing out in livid colors.

His body was still working around him. Rippling and suckling and making a spectacle out of the whole mess by giving off little, wet smacking sounds whenever McCree pulled out far enough to actually ram back inside.

“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” he was groaning out low, right into Hanzo’s face. He was just babbling for the sake of it, not registering what exactly it was that he was saying. McCree was thinking with his dick; thinking about how he was going to fill Hanzo up, and how sore his swollen balls would feel afterwards. Hanzo couldn’t make a sound except for a low, desperate keening deep in his throat.

McCree would never have imagined how desperate Hanzo would be for cock. How that pink, little hole would become pouty and _hungry_ to get filled, opening up like a dream for a big dick that knew what it wanted.

“Fucking slut. So good. So gorgeous. Yeah, _take_ it. Take my dick, an’ keep quiet like a good boy. Like a fuckin’ good boy, _dahlin’_.”

Sweat was tickling down his spine and gathering in the small of his back. He was fucking like an animal, hips hunching into his desperate, abrupt thrusts, deep dicking Hanzo - trying to practically crawl after his cock into that slick, clutching space that felt like wet silk clinging to him.

Hanzo’s face was red. He probably couldn’t breathe too well. His dark, liquid eyes started to cross from the overload of sensations, and McCree dumbly wondered whether he’d found Hanzo’s prostate and had been pummeling against the puffy gland the whole time.

Hanzo’s fingers were on his back, clawing and scratching. It felt like he was trying to rip it open while he bucked up towards him; towards the meaty cock driving into him.

“Stay silent, nice and silent, that’s right that’s the ticket, good boy good boy,” McCree babbled, pressing their foreheads together and listening to the desperate huffing coming from Hanzo’s nose.

“Fuckin’ _good_ little slut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	10. Reaper76;McReaper Rimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper is hungry for Jesse's ass

“You want to eat him out, don’t you?” Jack was crouching closely behind Reaper, one hand curled around his throat, thumb rubbing along the edge of the collar he was wearing. His other arm was slung around Reaper’s waist, giving him his too loose fist to fuck into.

Reaper’s head fell back against his shoulder with a low groan, hips jerking into Jack’s hand.

“Yessss….”

“You’ll have to lose your mask for that.” Jack’s voice was gentle, but resolute. He’d not let Reaper get away with it.

When Reaper hesitates, breath audibly hitching, Jack’s eyes travel towards McCree who is decadently spread out before them and lazily jerking off to the sight of Reaper being torn between keeping his last shield, and getting his face between his hairy cheeks.

“I think he’ll need a little more incentive. How about you give ‘im a little show?”

McCree grins sharp, and lopsided. He’s not having a cigar in the corner of his mouth but he’s still compensating for it anyway. It makes him look idiotic and endearing at the same time.

Jesse has no hangups with being lewd. He shifts and hooks his hands beneath his knees to pull them up and apart, before he thinks better of it and lets go with one to reach down to his ass.

Jack watches as McCree pulls one cheek to the side, showing them his hole. When he slides his fingers further in so he can circle it slow and steady, Reaper makes a sound like a kicked dog.

“Looks tasty, doesn’t it?” McCree laughs and lets go of his other leg as well so he can pinch his own nipple and tug on his chest hair. He’s still a fucking kid when compared to them, but he’s filling his role admirably. Reaper moves against Jack’s restraining hands; a wall of solid, shockingly cool muscle.

Jack curses low and grips him tighter, the line of his dick slowly, tantalizingly sliding along Reaper’s ass crack.

“Your mask, Gabriel,” Jack warns - and just like that, Reaper is Gabriel. He growls and sounds pissy and impatient, his hand fumbling with the straps and ripping it violently from his face.

He surges forwards once more, and this time Jack lets him go.

“Holy shit!” McCree shouts and laughs at the same time, one hand curled tightly into Gabriel’s dark, short curls, holding on for dear life as Reyes presses his face between his cheeks with what could only be described as the groan of a starving man.

Jack moves to the side, watching as Gabriel noses Jesse’s balls out of the way before he couldn’t be bothered anymore and just lets them rub across the bridge of his nose because he’s too busy sucking and licking at McCree’s hole.

“Help him,” Jack orders, voice hoarse and as authoritative as it was on the battlefield. Jesse obeys without thinking - reaches for his junk and holds it out of the way while he rides Gabriel’s enthusiasm out.

His eyes are glassy and his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ of dumb surprise.

Gabriel, for his part, is single minded and greedy. He’s licking and sucking; getting the space between Jesse’s cheeks wet with spit as he presses his face in further and further, as if he’s trying to smother himself in McCree’s ass.

Jack feels stupidly fond as he lets a hand slowly slide along Gabriel’s spine and lovingly taps two fingers against his hole. He notes how Gabriel lifts his ass into the touch and it makes Jack feel warm in his belly.

“There you go. And when you’re done with him, I want a go as well. I’m gonna sit on your face if you want to. Do you want to?” 

He hooks fingers into the back of Gabriel’s collar and pulls - but Gabriel fights against the drag, so he wouldn’t get dislodged from his perch. Jack still can hear the embarrassingly high whine of eagerness.

Jesse grins like he’s high, hand just holding onto his junk; he looks like he forgot to jerk himself off, and is just enjoying the ride for the moment.

Jack can’t wait for his turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	11. Reaper76;ReaperReinhardt Warming Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper is just so hungry to be warm for once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [ The-Fallen-Valkyrie ](http://the-fallen-valkyrie.tumblr.com/) for translating the Spanish for me
> 
> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?

“I can arrange that, Gabriel,” 76 promised with a gruff voice full of honesty. He tried hooking his chin over Gabriel’s shoulder but ended up just nuzzling against it. “I can get you all the cock you could ever want.”

Reaper shudders. He’s sitting almost motionlessly on Jack’s thighs, back arched and hips gyrating every now and then just to rub Morrison’s cock against his clutching, hot insides. He wants to get fucked - had been vying for a fuck for hours now; going from demanding to charming to almost weepy - , but is loathe to give up on Jack’s dick all the same, not letting him move out for more than a couple centimeters. It makes Jack feel stupidly fond of him.

Gabriel doesn’t answer, but he turns his head a little. Jack obviously got his attention. The prospect of getting filled up beyond his capacity always makes Gabriel as tame as a kitten.

Jack grins and lets his arm slide over one of Reaper’s thick, powerful thighs to inch his way towards his crotch. Everything feels humid and hot; so different to the rest of his clammy - sometimes outright cold - body. The accident has definitely left its marks on Gabriel Reyes.

“I bet he has a huge cock, Gabriel. Don’t know if even you could take it. Think he’s going to destroy your little cunt?” His fingers are tickling Reaper’s filled hole with tantalizing intent; the tips dipping in alongside his cock, making Gabriel stretch just that little bit more to give him an idea of how he could be filled and fucked. How full with warm, hard cock he could be.

Gabriel jerks and groans out a patch of black, wafting haze.

“Yessss,” he purrs, voice deep and hissing like death itself. It shouldn’t make Jack’s cock jerk in the tight hug of Reaper’s body. “ _Por favor_. Yes, Morrison.”

 _Gabriel could be so sweet when on the hunt for cock_.

.o.

Jack had known it wouldn’t be too hard to get Reinhardt to do it - he was a bleeding heart and would help any way he could, after all. He just hadn’t thought it’d be _that_ easy though.

There’d been almost child-like glee in the behemoth’s face as he clapped his large hands together and beamed at Jack, face already going a little pink beneath his white beard in excitement.

“With _pleasure_ , friend. With pleasure.”

He didn’t even need to put things in motion. In fact, he felt almost a little unnecessary. He could just sit to the side of the bed and stare when those exact paw-like hands reverently smoothed along Reaper’s back and down to cup the round, meaty ass that was eagerly lifting up into the touch. They looked obscenely huge - and gentle.

He had his cock in his hand but forgot to jerk off, or even get properly hard, because all his attention was on Reaper and Reinhardt and how he had never thought anybody would be able to actually _dwarf_ Gabriel. When Reinhardt leaned across Gabriel’s shivering back and rubbed his beard against his sickly pale shoulder, Jack’s mouth became dry, and his pulse sped up.

“No need to be afraid,” Reinhardt cooed, obviously concerned by the fact that Gabriel hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d pressed his chest to the bed and his ass in the air. The small of his back was arched into a tantalizing cup that Jack wanted to lick. 

Reinhardt’s thick fingers nudge their way between Reaper’s cheeks, and Jack wishes he could see it better; get a close up view of the heavily scarred knuckles brushing gentle but insistent across Gabriel’s pouting hole.

“You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. I don’t know if I can concentrate on missions, now that I know…” Reinhardt interrupts himself with a chuckle and gives Reaper’s hip an affectionate pat. He looks like he’s enjoying himself, and Jack can’t help but let his simple, earnest joy soothe him as well, even though his gaze keeps getting drawn back to the old man’s cock.

Reinhardt was a big man - his cock was just a reflection of his sheer size, just as Jack had assumed it would be. Nevertheless, it was plain intimidating to see, even half-hard as it was. It looked heavy. Solid. It looked like it would bulge against Gabriel’s belly just from the sheer heft of it.

“Ah,” Reinhardt suddenly breathed and knelt up, head turning so his good eye could observe as he pried Gabriel’s ass cheeks apart with two fingers. “I see you are well prepared. You have been looking forward to this, have you not? Ohhhh what a sweet, little peach you have…”

Gabriel snorts a growl into the sheets. He sounds like an angry bull, but he is not moving away from Reinhardt’s stroking fingers, or how they explore the slick, little muscle they have encountered. Jack knew too well how good Gabriel felt; how accepting and soft his hole could become if it was just played long enough with.

He is moving; body making a single, undulating wave designed to try and push himself onto Reinhardt’s fingers. When he doesn’t manage to do it, he throws his head around in irritation - now facing Jack.

There’s a flush on Gabriel’s scarred face, teeth gnashed together. He looks like a stray, malnourished dog with how the scar that ripped one corner of his mouth into a perpetual nasty grin was twisted.

“ _Hübsch_ ,” Reinhardt is murmuring, watching as two wide, rough fingers easily get swallowed up by Gabriel. “ _Wirklich hübsch…_ You’re like a feast, my friend. I don’t know where to start first… I almost wish you hadn’t been so eager, so I could take my time to open you up for me.”

Jack watches as Reaper flushes - _blushes_ \- and gets hit with the sudden, numbing realization that Gabriel was… embarrassed.

Gabriel’s eyes flick towards him, and his mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ of surprise. He looks almost startled to see Jack sitting there; as if he’d forgotten all about him in the wake of Reinhardt’s fingers slowly, experimentally pumping into him with lewd, suckling sounds.

It is only when the old man reaches between his thighs, fondling the swollen, heavy sack of his testicles, murmuring about how _sweet_ Gabriel was; offering everything of himself up on a platter, that Reaper suddenly jerks out of his stupor, cheeks going a little darker with his flush and black mist wafting from the ragged corner of his mouth as he spits out: “ _Cerrar la Boca_! Fuck me! Fuck me already!”

Reinhardt looks stunned for a second at the aggressive demand, but shakes it off rather quickly. His huge barrel chest heaves in a veritable earthquake of mirth as he laughs and slaps Gabriel’s ass hard enough to make him jolt forward and groan into the bedding, cock jerking out a dribble of pre-cum as the wide imprint of Reinhardt’s hand slowly shows up on his skin.

“That’s the spirit! What a lively little toy you have gotten yourself, Morrison! I’m envious. Don’t you worry. Don’t you worry one bit; I will give you what you need. I will just give it to you, _Schätzchen_.”

.o.

Reinhardt let Gabriel feel his cock slapping heavy and meaty against his hole, the wide tip nudging against it, and suddenly Gabriel was very quiet - not even answering to Reinhardt’s good-natured inquiry of his readiness.

He was just clawing at the bedding, eyes slowly going large and round the farther Reinhardt pushed in on a slow, gentle rocking motion that dragged the wide girth of his cock again and again along sensitive nerve endings - 

And with that, at least, Jack was familiar; Gabriel becoming near shy and overwhelmed when he finally got what he wanted; getting breached and spread on a thick cock - all the attention focused on him and the eagerness of his hole that had been softened up by hours of his own fingers.

“He’s going to warm you up,” Jack rasped. He gripped the back of Gabriel’s neck and squeezed down. He could hear Reinhardt’s soft, puffing breaths; his muttered “tight…”

“He’s going to warm your belly up just like you need,” Jack crooned, fingers rubbing circles into Reaper’s clammy skin, and dragging out a low, hopeful groan out of the man - a groan that started off barely audible but dragged on and on, getting more needy the deeper Reinhardt pushed and made him accommodate his size.

“ _Dios mio_ ,” Gabriel suddenly sobbed, back arching and the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he started to try and crawl away from the insistent press from behind. “Fuck, _fuck_ … Fuck, Jack, I…”

Reinhardt was keeping still, face flushed and hands large and restricting on Reaper’s wide, sturdy hips to keep him from getting away. His face was flushed above the stark white of his beard, good eye gleaming heatedly. “Oh no,” he rumbled, “You’re not getting away. Stay where you are - just stay right here. Don’t hurt yourself. Everything is going to be fine.”

One hand was starting to clumsily pet Gabriel’s sweaty back, trying to calm him down as he writhed on his cock, muscles working as they tried to squeeze him out again, but only succeeded in massaging along his cock.

“You’re doing fine,” Jack reassured him, hand still a grounding weight on the back of his neck. “You’re doing fine, Gabe. Just let him do his thing. He’s gonna make you feel so _warm_.”

Gabriel was breathing fast and ragged, dark eyes glazed over as he obeyed them and let Reinhardt move in slow, careful drags of his cock.

When Jack looked - because how could he not? - he couldn’t believe how far Gabriel was stretched; everything slick and sweaty, accommodating the cock that was ruining his poor little hole.

Reinhardt leaned down slowly, huge body easily blanketing the shivering man beneath, ass flexing as he hunched in on a slow, gentle thrust that nonetheless made Gabriel shake hard enough in overstimulation that his teeth were chattering.

“You’re always cold, yes? I can help. I can warm you up. Got just the thing for you. I’ll warm up your belly until you feel like you’re bursting with it. And then I’ll keep you plugged up nice and tight so nothing will seep out. Jack wanted me to help, and I can do that. I can keep you nice and warm, _Schätzchen_. Just be good for me and hold still, will you?”

…And Gabriel held still for him.


	12. McCree/Hanzo Hairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "I agree about the Hanzo's body hair fetish. He can't help but stare at McCree's hairy forearms when he's in his usual get up. But when McCree is in casual wear Hanzo can't help but stare at the chest hair escaping from his tank, his armpits whenever he raises his arms, or get a peak at that treasure trail as McCree stretches. Best of all, McCree is totally oblivious to this, and is confused when they are having a conversation and Hanzo is bright red. Damn hairy American bodies."

Hanzo watched as McCree’s hand slowly lifted in his sleep, scratching through his tangled brush of a beard, and then lifted to pat at his head, obviously searching for a hat that he hadn’t even donned that day.

When he didn’t find it, his arm went slack, hand sliding up until he could rest it along the upper edge of the couch. Hanzo shifted uncomfortably, hands curling into tight fists, dark eyes staring at the thick bush of dark brown hair in his armpit that he could now see so very well.

Americans were hairy creatures, and Hanzo supposed McCree must’ve been the worst of all.

It was repulsing.

Especially when he was like this - dressed like a … like a _slut_ , slouched down on the couch until his tanktop rode up in the back, legs spread wide in his sweatpants.

Hanzo could see the fleece of chest hair peeking out the top, and the thick trail running down from his belly button. McCree’s lack of personal grooming habits had been a _concern_ for him as long as he’d only suspected, but now he was positively _appalled_ to see the state this uncivilized man was in.

He only needed to shift a little closer to see the beginnings of his bush, shamelessly peeking out from the low slung pants; dark brown and curly, and a testament to the fact that McCree wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Hanzo scowled and looked away as he had dark thoughts about McCree swaggering around the HQ with his cock freely swinging against the loose fabric of his pants.

What an animal.

Hanzo flinched as McCree snorted in his sleep and scratched his hairy belly with one lazy hand, drifting down and - to Hanzo’s absolute horror - into his pants where he proceeded to fondle himself and drag thick fingers through his pubes. He was rooted to the spot, watching as Jesse sighed and pulled his hand out once more.

It was then that he retreated to his rooms, face feeling hot and an itching sheen of sweat between his shoulder blades. When he jerked off beneath the shower, he definitely did not think about how it’d have been if he rubbed off against McCree’s hairy body and gave him a mess to wake up to in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	13. McCree/Hanzo Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Oh ok! I getcha I getcha. I think self-exploration is a key theme for Hanzo. My headcanon is that he's Demi-Homosexual. And he's really never had the chance to fully explore his sexual side until now. I think McCree brought that out of him. Your idea makes me think about McCree being away for awhile, and Hanzo has so much time on his hands that he's trying to come up with new ways to please McCree. Then the lingerie comes in, and he ends up pleasing himself to his own reflection."

“Ya know, I left ya a lil’ somethin’ from yours truly. It’s under my bunk. Y’ can go an’ have a look-see.”

That’s what McCree had drawled over the private com, voice deep and slurring words together.

Hanzo was sitting on McCree’s unmade bed, the flat box on his thighs, and stared at its contents without thinking anything at all. His fingers were moving slowly, gently rubbing the thin fabric between the tips, letting a little strap slide through.

When he finally lifted one of the garments out of the box, he could feel his heart skip a beat, dark eyes taking in the black, flimsy underwear.

Part of him wanted to be indignant and angry at McCree. ‘Do you want to mock me?!’ A larger part, was just secretly pleased that Jesse wasn’t here to badger and wheedle. He had all the time in the world to himself as long as no sudden alarm started blaring, and Hanzo felt cautiously excited at the thought of trying on these… these _lewd_ undergarments.

They were a little tight - Jesse had obviously taken them with just a vague understanding of the actual width of Hanzo’s chest - but he thought they had been made with a male figure in mind because the restriction wasn’t too bad.

The fabric felt… peculiar. It was rubbing up against his nipples, making them almost painfully sensitive as Hanzo stared at himself through McCree’s large mirror, eyes drinking in the sight of the almost see-through cups hugging his pecs. His nipples were dark, needy ovals behind the fabric, and when he reached up to carefully touch one finger to his left one the sharp talons of his prosthetic feet dug into the floor because of the sharp feeling of almost-hurt sizzling through his body.

“Oh…” he whispered, eyes roaming across his broad shoulders, accentuated by the tiny bit of fabric, and then over the center of his chest that was criss-crossed by black straps. He noticed how they helped pulling the cups together, giving him _cleavage_. He… liked the look of it. Of himself.

“Oh,” he murmured again; just standing and staring - cock starting to push up past the waistline of the panties he was wearing and mildly distorting their shape.

He didn’t like how his gold-stitched scarf looked next to the black lingerie, so he took it off and let his hair down, eyes watching the shift and move of his pecs and biceps.

Hanzo turned slowly, eyes drinking in the sight of his body in the unusual underwear. He felt ashamed at how much he enjoyed the view of it; how it made him look pretty and strangely more masculine - the thin straps accentuating the broadness of shoulders and thickness of his thighs.

He stared, mesmerized, at the bulge in his panties; how even their clever tailoring couldn’t hide the thick line of his cock any longer.

It felt peculiar, touching himself through the fabric; hand cupping the rigid line and feeling how it tried straining away from his body into the loose grip in response to the sudden stimulus. 

Hanzo had to sit down. It was a graceless slumping onto the edge of McCree’s unmade bed, watching himself in the mirror - watching how his hands moved slow and tentative, as if they weren’t his own.

He felt almost drunk, fingers dragging across his nipples once more, while he curved his hips into the shy touch of his hand; cupping his balls, warm and heavy behind the thin, vaguely scratchy fabric.

He wondered how long McCree has had the lingerie. Whether he thought to give it to him as some kind of joke, or had planned to ask him after fucking him and leaving him loose and leaking… which seemed entirely more likely.

Hanzo closed his eyes, thumb dragging slow and hard across the swollen head of his cock, nail gingerly pressing right against the slit. He couldn’t bare having them closed for too long, though - he needed to watch himself. How he had spread his legs in much the same fashion these Americans used to slouch.

He looked… _wanton_. He _felt_ wanton. He felt like he wanted McCree here to tell him how good he looked, and wanted him _not_ here as well. Let himself enjoy his own show in privacy.

He _did_ leave the cum stained panties on McCree’s pillow, though. He was no cruel man, and Jesse did deserve a boon, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	14. McCree/Hanzo Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo's tits are too full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabbled for [ milkcree ](http://milkcree.tumblr.com/)'s post that stated: "hanzo riding on top & dripping milk with each bounce of his hips is… my fetish"

Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed in cat like pleasure. He looked almost angry staring down at McCree, lips set in a tight line and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deep as if in concentration.

At first, he’d been embarrassed about the whole thing - McCree would bet his hat on it - but it seemed like the allure of a thick cock spreading him open and rubbing against all those needy, itchy spaces was enough to make him pretend like everything was okay. Like he didn’t mind _one bit_ that with each twist and dirty grind of his hips, his pecs jiggled and a new little dribble of milk was trickling down, getting his belly wet in two thin lines.

“Don’t _look_ at it,” Hanzo hissed, fingers on McCree’s chest digging in harder, pulling on the short hair liberally coating his front.

“Not lookin’,” he mumbled, eyes tracking as Hanzo bounced viciously, dragging his silky, clutching insides along McCree’s cock and making his pecs bounce so violently, milk droplets sprayed across McCree’s belly, soaking into the dark hair.

He felt wet and tacky and he loved it. 

Hanzo made a sound that would have been an impressive growl, hadn’t he managed to rub the fat head of McCree’s cock squarely against his prostate, making him choke on his own spit rather undignified, eyes falling closed and head tilting back into his neck.

“Oh yeah,” McCree whispered roughly, putting one arm behind his head and wishing he could reach the cigar glimmering in the ash tray a little ways away. “Not lookin’ at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	15. Soldier: 76/Reaper More Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper likes to hide a pretty little something beneath his suit

Reaper snarled as he got slammed into the concrete wall. All around them were gun shots and angry calling to be heard, but it didn’t seem as loud as Morrison’s labored breathing right next to his ear. It sounded mechanical and almost wheezing through his mask, voice tinny and angry as he demanded: “Show me!”

Reaper could have escaped the restricting arm across his shoulder blades easily, but he didn’t. He was as excited as Morrison, but hid it better than he.

“Oh Commander,” he chuckled, “leaving duty for your own selfish, little indulgence, are we?”

“ _Show_ me, Reyes,” Morrison snarled, and Reaper wasn’t going to do _jack shit_ but he also wasn’t hindering 76′s hands roughly yanking his heavy, long coat to the side, or the way they slipped around him and fumbled at his belts.

He seemed to be almost shaking with excitement. How… endearing.

Jack, on his part, heard nothing of the battle around them. He could only hear the pounding of blood in his own ears, his face hot and sweating behind his faceplate as he yanked at Reaper’s pants and finally got a glimpse of _them_.

A shocking, almost _gaudy_ pink, edged with pearl white. It looked girly and so thin and feeble against the broad, strong hips, it seemed like it should’ve ripped apart long ago.

Jack wanted to growl, but it only came out as a pressurized, high whine. It was a fucking string and he couldn’t see enough because Gabriel’s fucking pants were too fucking tight and…

He could almost imagine how the little string of fabric would look disappearing between Gabriel’s juicy, muscular cheeks. How Jack would need to _search_ for it. Pry Gabriel’s ass apart and push his face in deep to…

“Same time, same place,” he rasps, voice as shot as his dignity as he struggled to take a shaking step backwards, eyes still fixed on the frilly lingerie. Reaper was even tilting his ass out a little, not remotely embarrassed about being out in the open like this.

“Fuck,” 76 swore and viciously yanked his rifle back over his shoulder and into his hands. He kept his head down and his shoulders up as he trudged out of the alley, leaving Reaper behind who was very pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	16. Soldier: 76/Reaper Stripper AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is a stripper with the name Reaper

People usually didn’t ask for a private dance from Reaper. People usually were struck with almost respectful silence when the dark music came thudding on and Gabriel walked out in full ensemble, heavy iron toed boots stomping the floor in rhythm.

People usually just sat with fear boners, dollars clutched in their fists until he slipped it out with sharp talons and an annoyed huff.

This one customer, though, was obviously determined not to be ‘people’. He sat with his legs spread wide, back military straight and arms crossed in front of his chest. He was too commonly handsome for the dark look he was sporting and Gabriel openly laughed at him when he saw the facade slip into nervous anticipation the second he stepped into the room.

“Little boys are not allowed in here,” he purred and sat down on the broad lap provided for him. The young man looked like he was going to swallow his tongue, his blue eyes wide as he tried to lean back and away from his lap dance.

“No cash back,” Gabriel hissed, way too aggressive and standoffish. The guy’s face slackened a little, his arms loosening from their tight cross around his chest. _Oh_ , Gabriel thought and then again, when the big hands fluttered uncertainly around his thick thighs before tentatively gripping them, _Oh_.

“Are you sure you can handle me? Wanna run back to _mamá_?”

He was grinding slow and dirty, gloves on the guy’s broad shoulders, digging talons in tight until it had to hurt. The man doesn’t say a word, just stares at him and keeps slowly squeezing his thighs. His face is getting flushed and Gabriel thinks he might really be into getting bossed around. It was hard to tell his age.

“Give me a show,” he suddenly said, voice low and surprisingly rough, and Gabriel sneered behind his mask just to cover his sudden uncertainty.

“Oooh. _Papi_ knows how to talk,” he rasped and ground down once more before shifting; a fluid move as he turned, making the guy take all his weight just because he was petty.

His ass was pressed right into his crotch, big and juicy, and pronounced by the straps of his tight pants. He heard the low groan behind him and grinned viciously as he tilted his pelvis back just to give him a better view. What an annoying _boy_. 

He’d show him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	17. McCree/Hanzo Piercings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo does reckless things when he's inebriated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Def no safe piercing aftercare but I actually didn't give a frig :O

“You’re a slutty drunk,” Jesse whispers. It sounds reverent; like he’s just thanking the gods while he stares down at Hanzo crumpled on the bed, trying to touch his sore looking nipples and getting needy and frustrated when it hurts more than he usually enjoys.

“You’re a fuckin’ slutty drunk who gets his tits pierced when he ain’t supervised.” He’s babbling and McCree knows it, but he’s never been good at any brain-to-mouth filter, especially when he’s helplessly horny like now; watching Hanzo groan in drunken frustration, hand gingerly cupped beneath his pec.

He’s red-faced and bleary-eyed and stinks of a mixture of sake and beer… and it’s right up Jesse’s alley.

He has no idea when Hanzo even managed to stumble away from their little camp on the back of the base, leaving McCree, Torbjörn and Tracer to drink on their own, and he has no idea how Hanzo managed to get his nipples pierced - but he ain’t complaining. Oh _he ain’t complain’, pardner_.

“McCree!” Hanzo hisses. He arches his back and struggles out of the sleeve of his yukata that’s been hanging off of his arm improperly for a while now. If he’d intended to say more - probably some ill-tempered order - he never did so. Rather, he became distracted by his own chest again; staring down at his pecs and squinting at the puffy, raised flesh of his nipples.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Jesse drawls, crawling onto the bed. He grips Hanzo’s wrist before he can touch his chest again and presses the hand down onto the bed with a firm, warning squeeze. Hanzo tries to sneer at him, but it ends up being a cross-eyed look of helplessness instead as he arched and curled his hips up, mashing his hard cock against McCree’s crotch.

“Subtle,” Jesse murmurs, eyes travelling down the flush on Hanzo’s throat towards his pecs. His nipples, usually tan, were an angry red from Hanzo’s inebriated poking, the endings of the bar piercings glinting invitingly next to the pouty nub.

Jesse tried imagining them clamped in the cold metal of the piercer’s special tongue, but his brain fried at the picture it came up with. Had Hanzo been groaning when it happened? Had he gotten hard on the chair, because he got off on his own lewdness?

“You’re killin’ me,” Jesse murmurs and dips down to dance the tip of his tongue along the swollen, puffy areola, just because it was begging for it. Hanzo hisses and jerks, one arm coming up with his hand balled into a fist as if to strike Jesse on the side of the head - but ends up just gripping his shaggy hair and pulling on it to press him closer.

When Jesse carefully presses his teeth against the very edge of the abused skin, he spits out a curse in Japanese and bucks up to him once more; drunkenly fucking his clothed cock against McCree’s belt buckle. Ouch.

Tears spring to Jesse’s eyes when Hanzo uses his unfriendly grip on his hair do drag him away and over, insisting with an in-eloquent grunt he pay attention to the other tit.

“Fuckin’ slutty when you’re drunk,” McCree whispers again, tonguing at the piercing and bringing his hand up to carefully tug on the other little metal ball because he can’t leave well enough alone. Hanzo chokes on a near-howl and almost bucks Jesse off; the muscular, compact body writhing like a goddamn snake as he tries to get away and get closer simultaneously.

The pain didn’t seem to be enough to make him not want his tits to get fondled and sucked, Jesse was giddy to notice.

He closed his lips around the abused, reddened area, starting a low, careful suck, and rolled the metal ball of the other piercing through his fingertips. It felt feverishly hot in his mouth. He wondered what Miss Ziegler would do when Hanzo arrived at her med-bay tomorrow; hung-over and ill-tempered, tits a red, swollen spectacle for everybody to see.

Or would Hanzo not go at all? Would he want to drag the healing process out, if he enjoyed it just as much as he seemed to right now; muttering filth in Japanese and fucking rude and selfishly up at McCree as he let himself get serviced by him?

Jesse couldn’t begin to fathom a guess. 

He let the nipple slip out of his mouth with a lewd, wet pop and observed it; dark red, obscene and puffy, with the metal of the bar piercing glinting cool and alluring against the skin.

“Damn, pardner,” he sighs, and dips his head, mouthing eager like a babe for the other one to suck it into his greedy mouth.

Hanzo is ripping at his hair, throat straining around low, whining grunts, eyes squeezed shut. He looks debauched and right on the edge; like he could come just from Jesse rudely fondling and suckling on his freshly pierced nipples. When Jesse pulled back, mouth shiny with spit and hanging open to pull in hectic, gasping breaths, Hanzo's eyes snapped open, staring at him liquid and dark and uncomprehending.

"Why did you stop?" One clumsy hand let go of his hair so he could claw it into McCree's shirt and try to pull him down again. He was arching his back - offering up his abused chest to Jesse's greedy mouth and sharp teeth. "Don't stop!"

McCree groaned, hands fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans. He was afraid he'd come in his underwear like a boy; just cream himself from Hanzo's filthy display.

"Wait a sec, babydoll, wait just a sec. Gonna haveta... gonna... _fuck_!" He grits his teeth, tears of pain springing to the corners of his eyes as the sensitive skin of his cock slightly snags on the sharp teeth of the jeans. Hanzo watches; dark eyes slanted and mouth wet and open for little breaths. He was flushed from alcohol and delicious pain and McCree forgets about his hurting dick as he wonders where the fuck he put his phone because he got to preserve this for eternity; the time Hanzo was a drunken whore and got his tits pierced and fondled.

"Damn, darling... you're fine," he sighs, fist closing around his cock to start an easy-going rhythm. He didn't need much; no way did he need much when Hanzo was like this. His nipples were still wet with saliva and puffy and soft looking. Like the plush pecs were filled with milk; ripe for the taking and ready for McCree's hungry mouth to...

"What're you doin' t'me," he slurs, half sobbing half groaning as he comes in slow, almost gentle waves. It's no sizzling, mind-numbing orgasm, but he likes this almost better. To watch with slitted eyes as he splashes well-aimed streaks right across the dragon tattoo and the swollen nub of Hanzo's nipple, and wipes the oozing, wet tip against the swollen flesh of the other one.

"Jus' stay like this, babydoll. Jus' let me get a picture and then I'll give ya right what you need," he sighs when Hanzo starts getting agitated, a large wet spot on the front of his loose pants showing off how ready he was for his own release.

"Jus' gotta preserve this night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	18. McCree/Hanzo Premature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is a 37yo virgin. Hanzo wouldn't give a fuck even if he knew.

“Ah… A-A-Ah don’t know about this, pardner,” McCree mumbled, studiously staring at the ceiling instead of at Hanzo crouched between his thighs, working on opening the thick belt.

When Hanzo looks up at him, annoyed at McCree’s… _everything_ , he sees him quickly dart a glance at his chest, then looking away once more with his scruffy cheeks getting darker with a furious blush.

Hanzo squints at him; confused at McCree’s sudden bashfulness after weeks and weeks of little playful innuendos and harmless flirting - and then that shower last week in which Hanzo had gotten a glimpse of what Jesse was _packing_ and his idle interest had fanned into a sudden white hot fire of _want_.

“What is there not to know about?” he asks sharp, unwilling to play along with whatever little game McCree was thinking of now. His hand was on the gratifyingly large bulge of McCree’s cock. He could smell the warm body and faint sweat; saliva flooding his mouth as he thought about the salty tang he’d have on his tongue in a few moments. How wide the meaty cock would spread him open, how _heavy_ it would be on his tongue.

“Ah’m not quite… Ah mean…” His eyes flick down again, staring at Hanzo’s face peering up at him regal and handsome, then slide farther down to stare at his chest. He stops speaking and just looks at Hanzo’s pecs. He seems transfixed by the fact that he could see both after Hanzo had slipped out of his yukata.

A smug, little grin tugged at the corners of Hanzo’s mouth. He hid it behind the whiskers of his beard by tilting his head forward and over McCree’s crotch.

The shorts were already damp when Hanzo petted across them, drawing the anticipation out until he could feel his nipples hardening. He was teasing himself just as much as McCree; getting himself riled up and excited by the contours of the big cock he'd only had glimpsed out of the corners of his eyes. He slipped curious fingers through the slit in the front, and warm humidity greeted him, apart from coarse, thick pubes that he gave a gentle scratch around the thick base. McCree jerked in reaction and nearly kneed him in the ribs.

“McCree.”

“S-Sorry. Uh. Sorry. Yeah. Alright. So this is… happenin’, I guess?”

Hanzo grunted in affirmation, not paying too much attention to McCree himself because he finally made acquaintance with what he’d wanted to meet for days now. McCree’s cock practically leaped into his hand; sliding between his fingers silky and strong as Hanzo gingerly freed it from the underwear.

He sat back on his haunches, thumb idly rubbing just beneath the swollen, dark head. McCree’s cock was gorgeous, he was almost loathe to admit; wide and long - heavy enough that it would droop against a hairy thigh without assistance. Hanzo wondered how it would feel reaming him - spreading him open until he felt like he could taste it in the back of his throat. It was flexing in his grip, skin feeling tacky with the pre-cum dribbling from the slit. 

Hanzo felt an excited sizzle in his belly at seeing how _wet_ McCree got. He should’ve known the American would be… ah… _messy_.

“Disgusting,” he murmured, voice thrumming with excitement. He leaned forward, daintily tonguing at the wet head, the saltiness of the pre-cum exploding on his taste buds. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders start to loosen.

Sucking cock always relaxed Hanzo.

A choked-off sound from above had him slant his gaze upwards, not too interested in McCree’s silliness now that he finally had his hands on his prize.

What he saw, though, gave him a little pause; enough so to draw slightly back, eyebrows pulling together in mild annoyance. McCree wasn’t even looking at him anymore. In fact, he’d crammed his silly hat onto his face, inhaling - as far as Hanzo could tell - heavily into it’s confines in between high, doggishly whining sounds.

Why wasn’t he looking at him? What was wrong with this silly cowboy?

Hanzo huffed, both hands now around McCree’s cock, idly squeezing it a little between his palms.

“McCree. Look at me.”

“Ah’d… rather not,” he groaned behind his hat. He wasn’t sitting still, either. His hips were moving as if trying to twist away; wriggling a little, then nudging up as if shyly trying to fuck between Hanzo’s fingers.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hanzo snapped. He waited for McCree to finally push his hat back where it belonged and gingerly peek down at him with glassy eyes, before he was satisfied and leaned forward once more, assured in the fact that he had an audience.

His belly clenched tight in need. He could feel his mouth dropping open, and swallowed down another wave of saliva at seeing another clear dribble of pre-cum well up in bubbles at the slit. He'd finally be able to get his lips around McCree and suck his delightful cock. He’d take his time. Suckle on the very tip to savor the salty treat; maybe tickle at his big, warm balls while he worked his way down, rubbing the smooth head against the inside of his cheek...

He'd savor this moment. He'd play with his new toy as long as-

Everything happened so fast. Hanzo barely registered the pained whine above him before McCree’s cock jerked in the strangling grip of his hands, cum splashing out in lazy, messy dribbles that hit Hanzo’s chin and throat just as much as the knuckles of his hands, frozen in shock and disbelief.

He stared, dumbfounded, at McCree’s cock. He could feel cum soaking into his beard and sliding down his skin.

“Oh… d-damn… S-Sorry, pardner,” McCree stuttered. Hat in his hands once more, holding it in front of his chest.

“…What.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	19. McCree/Hanzo Feline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree tries to wrap his head around the concept of Hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to find a more elegant solution to work my hc for this into the fic but to do that would’ve necessitated to write a bigger thing which is not going to happen lol
> 
> so my hc for this is that daddy Shimada had Hanzo genetically enhanced with cat genes for dat ninja boost yo. side effects included Hanzo developing certain feline characteristica :O

McCree liked leaving his long glove on when he… well… when he _bred_ Hanzo. (He supposed that was the most fitting word for what they were doing when Hanzo was like this. Growling and arching beneath him; trying to get him to fuck him just as much as he was trying to scratch his eyes out if McCree wasn’t on top of his game.)

Hanzo liked to bite, and McCree liked to preserve his one remaining hand, so the glove was a welcome necessity. Hanzo could sink his sharp fangs into the leather and hold on, silky black ears laid back flat against his head as he got fucked, mounted, _bred_ by McCree.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. Even bend across Hanzo’s sweaty back, one arm shoved against his mouth to give him something to bite while the other one was curled around his heaving belly, not letting him get away - McCree still couldn’t believe that this was real. There was a black, agile tail writhing against his stomach, looking for the best position to lie in, and oh boy hadn’t that been a surprise the first time he got Hanzo out of his wide, loose clothes.

 _Hanzo’s in heat_ , he thought sometimes, indistinctly and without really thinking about what that really meant. Hanzo’s body was a warm, insistent clutch around his cock, sucking him in in in and working him over with needy, slick muscles that clenched down and massaged but were loathe to let him go again.

His whole body was a trap; pretty and laid out, writhing just for Jesse’s benefit - or so he thought - and freezing on the spot with Hanzo growling low and threatening whenever he dared to actually touch; trying to sample the goods laid out before him.

It was the most delicious kind of torture.

Hanzo wanted to get filled up and warmed from the inside; a strange animal need telling him to produce offspring even if that was impossible, and he magnanimously _allowed_ McCree to help him.

McCree was nothing but an assistant to Hanzo’s greed, and he couldn’t say that he was put out by it, even if he thought that just one kiss to the back of Hanzo’s neck wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?

One hand stroking through his hair, giving comfort when Hanzo’s little sex sounds started to turn desperate and a little afraid of his own body’s gluttonous need, wouldn’t hurt, now… would it? (and maybe, just maybe, rubbing one of those silky ears between his fingers for once?)

Hanzo didn’t seem to be on the same page. He rutted back, mindless and eager, fucking himself onto McCree’s dick and yowling his need into the room after finally letting go of Jesse’s pounding arm. It sounded dissonant and melodious at the same time; just as contradictory as the whole recalcitrant creature he had shivering beneath him.

How did one go about taming himself a feline?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	20. McCree/Reaper Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is looking for a father figure and doesn't know it

“McCree. Stay.”

Jesse winces and eyes his team mates as they file out of the showers hastily, leaving him alone with Commander Reyes. He tries to stand at attention, but he’s never been in the military, so he has no real idea of how to do it. He just makes sure to keep his back straight and tries to not look too self-conscious with just a towel around his waist and only one sock on.

Reyes stalks towards him; big and dangerous, still in his tactical gear from the training session they’ve just completed. His dark eyes give nothing away.

“You’ve got good aim,” he says when he’s finally right up in Jesse’s face. Close enough that he can smell the sweat and feel his belly tighten in conflicting arousal. Reyes’ voice is low, almost a whisper, and Jesse hates himself for how warm the praise makes him feel.

“Sure, I-”

“How ‘bout you keep your fucking eyes on the target, then.”

Jesse’s stomach drops. He leans back and away from Reyes as his face becomes hot with shame. Has he noticed-

“I don’t appreciate being watched.”

Yes. Yes, he noticed.

“Understood, Sir.”

“Hopefully.”

.o.

Jesse can’t leave well enough alone, can he?

He wants to say that it’s just because Reyes explicitly warned him not to do it. He wants to say that it’s just because he’s a bastard and he likes the thrill of the forbidden.

He knows it’s something else entirely, but he’d never go far enough to admit it to himself.

Instead, McCree finds himself loitering around base when he doesn’t have anything else to do. It’s not hard to find his boss, because he always was in spitting range of Morrison - and where Morrison was, recruits tended to flock.

Morrison was a likable kind of guy. Approachable and hard working. He gave off farmboy vibes, and McCree should’ve felt connected to him.

Instead, he could only stare at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, quickly ducking into shadows whenever he turned around, looking for the invisible gaze he could feel on his person.

It wasn’t that McCree wanted to make Reyes angry, per se - he just wanted… he wanted… 

Attention.

.o.

Jesse rounds the corner and abruptly stands still. He frowns as he stares down the corridor - no sign of Reyes. He could’ve sworn…

A heavy weight slams into his back and rams him against the wall. His vision is blurry from his forehead connecting with the concrete, and he can dimly feel a big hand on the back of his head before his face gets mashed into the wall.

“This is my last warning, McCree,” Reyes hisses into his ear. Jesse can smell whiskey on his breath; warm and familiar. It’s just as oppressive as the broad, unrelenting body pressing against his back - and he has the weirdest, most conflicted boner.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at - but you should stop your little game. I am… not amused.”

Reyes gives him one more little shove into the wall, but all Jesse feels is the short nudge of his Commander’s hips against his ass. Reyes leaves him standing in the corridor with a bruise slowly forming on his forehead, and his cock throbbing helplessly.

.o.

“Good shot.” The curt, almost grudging praise had come crackling over the com right in the middle of the training session, and fucked Jesse right up.

He absolutely botches the rest trying to show off for Reyes. In retaliation, Reyes did… nothing.

He just did _nothing_. Didn’t even fucking mention it. Didn’t cuff Jesse around the back of his head, or called him a good for nothing ingrate. He didn’t threaten to give him the boot and kick him back to Route 66 where he’d found him.

He just… did nothing, and Jesse didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he wanted Reyes to be mad at him or hit him or…

… It was like that, if he was honest.

He wanted to get pushed around, he wanted to get noticed, he wanted - 

“You don’t know when to stop, do you… little boy.”

Reyes sounds almost conversational. It’s too late at night to stumble upon him on accident here in the shower rooms, and Jesse can just stand and helplessly stare from the shadow of one of the lockers. There’s nothing he could say now.

He’d watched his Commander work out in the gym; stemming weights and pounding dummies for hours on end, face a mask of rage and hate that slowly seemed to melt away into grim resignation.

He’d just stood in the corner and watched, hand in his crotch, squeezing the bulge of his cock, and coming up with strange, nonsensical scenarios of how he could approach his boss. Get on his knees and mash his face into his sweaty crotch. Suffocate himself on the big, uncut dick and let Reyes fuck his frustrations out into his throat in sharp, violent thrusts.

“Come here.”

Jesse does. He feels strangely weepy, alone with Reyes and with his cock hard and throbbing in his pants. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and yet he hopes it will be horrible. He wants Reyes to hurt him and degrade him and insult him - just… just pay attention to him.

-

He has no idea how he ends up on one of the benches, with his Commander slowly lowering his ass right onto his face. His brain shorted out; he doesn’t know what happened to lead to this. He has the vague recollection of Reyes talking to him with a low, painfully calm voice. 

He sounded soothing. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly what was going on in McCree.

He sounded like a father.

“I know what you need,” he can hear Reyes’ voice from above him. Strong fingers are in his hair, keeping him just the way his Commander wants him to be, before everything gets dark and humid and suffocating.

He can feel the heaviness of Reyes’ testicles against his forehead seconds before he has to open his mouth on instinct and give his hole a broad lick.

Reyes is drenched in sweat, and Jesse digs his nose in just behind his humid balls because his Commander’s low, rattling groan at getting his sweaty ass licked by his protege makes him teary eyed again.

“Good. You’re doing good,” Reyes sighs above him, thick thighs bracketing Jesse’s head. The muscles flex with Reyes’ little, rocking motions - as he drags his ass across Jesse’s tongue - and it was fucking scary to have his head in between them.

Jesse could imagine Reyes being able to pop his head with those thighs if he just put his mind to it, and it just made him sob against his boss’ slick taint, and a trickle of cum soak into his boxers.

He was a freak and completely broken, but he was okay with it because he could mash his face into his boss’ fat ass and get complimented for doing such a great job.

“You can be a good boy if you want to,” Reyes muses above him. He sounds a little out of breath, voice a deep, rumbling growl, and tears spring to Jesse’s eyes because he thinks _I did that. I._

Reyes drags his cock unabashedly across Jesse’s face as he rides him; smears his low hanging, ripe balls right across his closed eyelids, and presses down with his weight to have him gasp for breath.

Reyes was a fucking bastard and Jesse was dumb enough to lap it right up, and thank him for the privilege of getting suffocated by his ass.

“I know exactly how to make it stop hurting.” Reyes' dark voice is an insidious whisper that goes right to Jesse’s core and makes him try and press his tongue past the tight muscle he had been worshiping with kisses and licks.

“Say it, little boy. Maybe I will let you come, too. Just _say_ it.”

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tighter. His scalp was burning with Reyes’ unrelenting fingers tearing at his too long hair. His body was a bow strung too tight, and he was scared what might happen when he finally snapped.

“ **Say** it, Jesse.”

And maybe it was the sharp tug on his hair, or the insistent downward grind of Reyes’ hips - or the fact that he’d called him Jesse…

He had no idea what he was supposed to say until he actually did. It just tumbled out of his mouth, groaned against Reyes’ sweaty, gorgeous ass, with Jesse’s cock confusedly drooling little dribbles of cum into his underwear.

“ _Daddy_.”

Reyes laughed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	21. McCree/Reaper Shocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is a willing (?) toy for his commander.

Toys exist to get played with when one is bored.

Gabriel was often bored when there was no mission around; no target to eliminate.

Ergo, it was only logical that he acquired himself some toys to play with on his downtime. They were good toys, too. Durable. Flexible. _Pathetic and needy_.

He has his boots propped up on his window sill, but is otherwise naked and enjoying the breeze as his eyes slide lazily from the slits in the blinds towards McCree gasping on his narrow bed. Every now and then he jerks with an abrupt twitch, a high, reedy whine dragging out of his throat.

His face is as sweaty as the rest of his body. A good amount of it was plain and simple fear, even though his body was keyed up, his brainless cock bobbing hard and painful in the air whenever Reyes pressed the button again and watched his toy convulse on the sheets.

“Again,” he purrs. He doesn’t always give McCree a warning. Sometimes he just likes that short look of fear and resignation before another wave seizes the long body. McCree was still as lanky as a boy. So young and tender. Only trying to grow into the massive size his chest promised he could be with enough discipline. (Reyes would be his discipline. The boy should fucking thank him on hands and knees and with his tongue on his boots.)

McCree can’t breathe for the long agonizing seconds that the electricity courses through his body, the muscles in his belly clenching and relaxing in sharp little bursts. The nodes were attached down his sensitive sides. (Reyes couldn’t wait for the moment he would burst into tears when his commander gently petted fingers down his ribs. Already, the boy was flinching away from these touches.)

The second Reyes’ thumb lifts from the button, McCree pulls in a sharp, gasping sob. Tears have been sliding down his temples and into his long, brown hair. He is sniveling and snotty, but his cock is still bouncing ridiculously up and down. He is not allowed to touch his dick - that, at least, he’d learned fairly quickly.

“Come here,” Reyes orders. Seeing McCree gasp for breath and cry like a _bebé_ was only fun for so long. He watches McCree blink crusty eyes and wheeze as he tries to get his muscles under control and drag himself out of bed.

He crawls over on trembling arms and ducks automatically beneath Gabriel’s legs. Reyes grunts in acknowledgement and shifts his boots apart on the window sill. He slides a little down in his chair to give McCree unhindered access.

“Having fun, little boy?” Reyes asks him, one hand in his shaggy hair to keep him away from just nose diving into his commander’s crotch.

McCree stares at him with blank eyes for a few moments before he blinks them clear. He slowly nods against the hold, jaw working like he wants to say something, but ultimately deciding against it.

Reyes laughs at him and lets go of his hair. He leans back into his chair with a sigh, eyes closing as McCree hungrily presses his face into his ass crack, mouth greedy and open as he presses it against his commander’s hole. Moments later, he tilts his head back and lets Reyes’ balls drag across his face with a low delirious groan.

Reyes is playing with the remote to the nodes in his hand. He knows McCree can see it out of the corners of his eyes. He likes keeping his toy on edge and guessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	22. McCree/Hanzo Spandex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree dug out his old bodysuit from Blackwatch days...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bakausagiwithwings said: "Mcree in spandex?"

Hanzo stops and just watches, arms hanging loosely at his sides, fingers nearly losing their grip in his bow. His gaze skims across McCree, then once more - slower, more scrutinizing.

“What… are you wearing?” He wants it to sound sharp. An admonishment to McCree’s constant foolishness. Instead, he breathes it out on what sounds like a sigh. It sounds soft and choked like he has trouble breathing.

He _does_ have trouble breathing.

“Oh… jus’ a stupid little thing I used to wear in my Blackwatch days. Was’ jus’ wonderin’ whether it still fits. Thought it might be nice beneath the armor.”

He is looking at the mirror and turning this and that way. Hanzo watches as he raises his big hands and lays them across his gut; takes the roll of fat in hand and jiggles it.

Hanzo feels a hot flash run through his body, throat going tight.

“You look ridiculous,” he says, eyes fixed on the way McCree pinches the chub at his sturdy hips. His belly feels hot thinking about how gratifyingly thick McCree feels in his arms when they fuck. Heavy. Pressing Hanzo down into whatever surface they were fucking on. 

McCree just grins at him distractedly and then turns back to the inspection of his own body. His cock is a big, chubby bulge between his legs, gently bouncing with his every step.

“Are you not wearing underwear?!” Hanzo hisses. He can feel the tips of his ears start to burn.

“NNNnnnope, pardner.”

“You’re disgusting.” 

Hanzo scowls when McCree only laughs. A happy, deep laugh that comes from his belly and makes it move beneath the tight spandex. It bounces; fat but not weak. It is spring steel - Hanzo knows it.

“Yeah. Whatever, babydoll.” He reaches down and grabs the bulge of his cock unashamedly through the thin material and hefts it’s weight in the palm of his hand. “Y’ can peel me out of it later if y’ wanna. I’m gonna put on my armor and go to the practice range for a couple hours.”

Hanzo’s scowl deepens in time with the fire in his belly. He makes a harsh, disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

“ _Americans_.”

… Later, he is on time to help a sweaty McCree out of the tight body suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	23. McReaper;Hanzo76 Illicit activities Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree wants some naughty fun and then nearly looses his cool before it gets rolling.
> 
> Part 3

Gabriel’s grin is too wide. His teeth seem to be never ending in his jaw, inhumanly sharp and glinting like bone against the darkness of his skin.

“Hear that, Shimada?” he purrs, body bearing down on the other man. He is more mist than flesh - soot that wafts in and out of focus and that makes it near impossible for Hanzo’s scrabbling hands to get a grip as Reaper’s jaw falls open and a too long too dark tongue snakes out to drag along his throat and the soft, vulnerable underside of his chin. “McCree wants to replace you with the real deal.”

(McCree, for his part, is just staring, a numb whisper of “oh shit…” falling from his lips. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be afraid or turned on by the proceedings, cock half hard and undecided in his gripping, motionless hand.)

Hanzo growls, dark eyes flashing - blunt, human teeth bared in a surprisingly accurate facsimile of Gabriel’s demonic grin.

“I haven’t heard the good soldier protest either.”

He says it softly; whispers it into the vague shape of Reaper’s ear like a lover.

Gabriel freezes, the realization apparently just dawning on him, and Hanzo utilizes his lack of concentration to curl strong thighs around partly formed hips and swing them around onto their sides; giving himself room to breathe without getting smothered by the substantial, if formless, bulk above him.

Gabriel seems shocked into his human form for the moment; only little tendrils of smoke curling up around his shoulders as he stares at Hanzo.

When his gaze flickers over towards the two men standing to the side of the bed and watching, he looks almost… sheepish. Unsure. _Shy_.

The look vanishes as fast as it had come over him. Reaper tilts his head, pressing their foreheads together in a parody of intimacy, and reaches down, hand curling around one of Hanzo’s ass cheeks, fingers intrusively sliding in deep; rubbing across the warm clench of muscle he finds there.

Hanzo grits his jaw at the broad, dry fingertip trying to wriggle its way inside.

“You’re so uptight,” Reaper croons, amusement badly hidden, “no wonder McCree wants to swap it around. He wants to have a fuck that isn’t taking it like a fish. He wants someone that can give it back just as well as he dishes it out.”

Hanzo grins with one side of his mouth; sharp and sardonic as he gets one arm around the width of Reaper’s chest and pulls him close, their pecs squishing together and rubbing as he lets Gabriel drag his hips closer by the grip he has on his ass.

He is whispering something back, but it is drowned in McCree’s deep groan and his drawled “ _That’s_ what I’m talkin’ about… that’s a sight for sore eyes, I tell ya.”

And they would look like they’re about to bite each other bloody and get their hands around the other’s throat; dark eyes gleaming maliciously and noses curled in barely suppressed snarls - only that they’re _hard_ and McCree can’t stop from staring at their cocks bumping and nudging; practically snuggled up against each other, and _oh_ they’re suddenly kissing.

It’s aggressive and wet; more tongue and teeth than anything else. 76 is shifting next to him from one foot to the next, blue eyes focused with laser intent on the proceedings; and when Reaper starts lapping blood off of Hanzo’s mouth with his serpent tongue, Jesse wonders vaguely what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.

.o.

McCree might have forgotten how scared shitless he’d been of his old commander. Yes. He might have forgotten the part where he’d gotten confused, painful boners whenever Reyes had chewed him out in front of everyone back in their Blackwatch days.

How he’d found himself on ops with a small puddle of cum cooling uncomfortably in his shorts just from his commander barking into his ear to ‘take the fucking shot, _pendejo_ ’ and how he’d never been quite sure if he was going to nut or piss his pants because Reyes was fucking hot but also scary.

He was even scarier now, crawling towards McCree with a grin on his face that was warping; stretching out farther and sharper than humanly possible, eyes alight with a hellish glint. He wondered how Morrison got it up, let alone stick his cock anywhere near this mass of focused evil.

He also wondered why the fuck he was so hard it hurt when Reyes was nuzzling up against his cock, tongue snaking out long and scary and curling a couple times around his dick. It felt cool and slick. Jesse’d never been so conflicted about his desires.

Morrison next to him seemed to have no hangups. He was carding fingers through Hanzo’s hair, and humming beneath his breath, hips rocking forward, trying to nudge the head of his cock against the archer’s soft palate.

Hanzo was staring up at 76 - and for just a moment, McCree forgot about the eldritch horror suckling his cock, because he was transfixed by the sight and sound of Hanzo taking dick. Eyes dark and needy, spit slicking from the corner of his mouth in his eagerness to try and take it as deep as possible and still have the head somehow drag across his tongue.

His inattention immediately was punished by teeth testing their razor sharp edges against the sensitive flesh of his cock. Eyes bulging, he stared down into the pissy face of Reaper. He was growling and… and that wasn’t helping. Not when it was vibrating along McCree’s dick and making his eyes water and balls throb in painful arousal.

“Oh lord,” he whispered, hands curling into helpless fists. He wanted to touch but didn’t dare to. Reaper was one hell of a frightening power bottom. He wondered whether he’d go out with both hands still attached if he touched him anywhere that wasn’t allowed.

“Hey, McCree.” Morrison’s midwestern drawl made him turn his head back slowly, dumbly staring as 76 easily hooked his thumb into the corner of Hanzo’s mouth, breaking the tight, suckling seal the archer has had on him until now.

Hanzo groaned, eyes already glassy, letting his mouth get fucked idly by 76’s finger as he kept the unmoving cock warm. His lips were shiny with drool.

“How ‘bout you take better care of my boy. I’m sure he’ll thank you plenty.”

“I’m honestly not sure anymore…” Fuck, where had his bravado gone? Lost and never to be found somewhere between Reyes crawling towards him and getting his teeth on his cock in a fit of petty jealousy.

Hanzo’s head turned minimally, eyes slanting in cat-like satisfaction towards Reaper. His eyebrows twitched up and McCree thought he’d never seen so much pure _smugness_ in such a little gesture.

Reyes’ face… honestly, McCree couldn’t even try to fathom what that expression meant. He winced when Reaper suddenly moved, hands twitching belatedly towards his cock to try and shield it from whatever outburst would follow now - only for Reyes to nuzzle his dick with almost desperate vigor, mouth soft and needy as he ducked down and licked Jesse’s balls with reverence.

“Oh,” he breathed, staring down and then towards Jack who nodded at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s right.”

“…oh.”

.o.

Jack wondered vaguely what Hanzo and Gabriel might be thinking; side by side, scrabbling at the sheets on the bed to try and steady themselves as they get deep dicked; big cocks spreading their soft, spongy insides apart and blunt, swollen heads nudging against those deep, never fully satisfied places. He wonders if they even think anything beyond getting fucked - beyond trying to spread their legs farther and bounce back with more vigor; try taking cock deeper and better.

They are looking at each other, their cheeks pressed against the mattress like sleepy kittens, eyes feverish and glazed, mouths open and drooling.

There is no way they can sleep when they have cocks warming up their bellies from the inside.

McCree seems to have rediscovered his easy happy-go-lucky attitude. He has his left hand on Gabriel’s right hip and is riding him like a stallion, foot up on the edge of the bed and laying into Gabriel with sharp, overenthusiastic thrusts that smack loud and drive deep.

Gabriel - isn’t complaining. He is complacent like a pup, now that he finally gets what he’s always wanted: a cock splitting him open and someone rude enough to make him take it. He even has one hand on his ass, fingers clawing at the cheek as he pulls it to the side, trying to give better access. He can be so sweet and accommodating if he wants to.

Jack, for his part, feels almost drunk - or sick. His head feels hot and filled with cotton. His feet are tickling with pins and needles. Fucking Hanzo is like being on the brink of a seizure, and he doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to.

The assassin is like silk around his cock - wet and clinging, insides moving in shivering little clenches that 76 couldn’t begin to wonder whether they were intentional or happy and nervous little spasms.

His back is sweat slick, muscles rippling, spine dipped into the most tantalizing little cup 76 had ever seen - he’s taking the force of his thrusts and just bounces back with a throaty gurgle and a roll of his shoulders.

He is muttering Japanese. Low, angry sounding hisses that couldn’t be anything but curses whenever the soldier’s cock slides against a particularly needy part.

When 76 reaches down, intent on getting his hand around that lovely, sleek cock he gets it batted away impatiently, dark liquid eyes staring at him over the swell of Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Let me come on your cock.” It’s a plea as much as it is a demand. His face is sweaty and flushed dark. He looks like he can barely breathe; as if the cock reaming him was not letting him get a good gulp of air in - and Jack had to admit, it was doing _wonders_ for his ego.

“Damn, I love your ass. Always loved your fat, fuckin’ ass, Reyes.”

Jack’s attention swerved back to the side; to McCree’s almost maniacal grin as he suddenly stopped mid-fuck and pulled away to Gabriel’s unending dismay.

He was groaning, low and panicked, hands scrabbling backwards to try and have a grip at McCree’s hips, body starting to lose its form as he whines for the dick back; even asks with a sweet, surprisingly high voice - begs for Jesse McCree’s cock and doesn’t give a fuck that others can hear it because he’s deep down in his head and Jack doesn’t think he can think beyond a big, hard dick reaming him.

“Calm down. Jus’ turn around, will ya? Wanna get a look at your face when I finish off inside ya…”

Jack almost barks out a laugh with how frantically Gabriel starts scrabbling, before he settles on dissolving and reforming on the spot; knees falling open and slick abdominal muscles clenching.

McCree groans, hands stroking down the insides of Gabriel’s thighs and gripping big, rude handfuls of the thick muscle.

“You’re one scary motherfucker. But _damn_ you’re a nice fuck when you got a dick inside ya.”

Jack snorts, one hand dragging down Hanzo’s spine in a slow, soothing pet. McCree looked like he was going to nut any second now, and he wasn’t feeling much better if he were quite honest.

He wondered how McCree would like a contest of who could make their pet come faster with a tongue in their sloppy, creamed holes.

Slanting a gaze over, McCree’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, eyes fixed on the way Gabriel’s cock bobbed as he got fucked, hands on those wide, sturdy hips.

Yeah… McCree looked like he was up for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	24. Reinhardt/Reaper Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Reaper needs a gentle voice in his ear. Reinhardt is perfect for the job.

Frankfurt didn’t have an official Overwatch base, which suited Reinhardt just fine if he was being honest. It meant he could still spent some time at home and especially on his rooftop garden, having a nice, solitary barbecue like he did now.

“What are you wearing.”

It sounds taken aback and disgusted. A low, grating voice that Reinhardt was quite familiar with. He has to bodily turn around to look at Gabriel since of course he put himself on Reinhardt’s left side.

He beams when he sees their on-and-off compatriot. He looks out of place in his drab leathery garb in midst Reinhardt’s flowers, yet he definitely is no unwelcome sight.

“Your timing is perfect. I was just about to start on dinner.”

Gabriel’s mask is firmly in place, and he doesn’t answer to the invitation. He simply keeps staring at Reinhardt’s flowery apron. He holds himself carefully stiff. He looks like he doesn’t want to even breathe too deep.

Reinhardt’s hearty grin dims a little, good eye taking in Gabriel’s posture; how one clawed finger is tapping against his thigh in restlessness.

“Do you need help, my friend?” Reinhardt asks, booming voice pitched lower into a rumble. Reaper’s nod is jerky but instantaneous.

A handful of seconds pass by before he grates out: “Please.”

Reinhardt’s eyes crinkle at the corners when his grin resumes full force.

“How could I say no to such a polite request from such a lovely little treat such as yourself.” Reaper flinches barely noticeable, then very carefully rolls his shoulders and relaxes a little. Reinhardt offers him one huge paw-like hand. “Come. I have something special in mind for you.”

.o.

Gabriel digs his heels into the mattress and arches up with a strained groan shivering out of his throat. He has put his whole weight onto his shoulders, pressing back into Reinhardt’s massive chest.

“That’s it. _Wundervoll_. You’re doing great,” Reinhardt coos and tightens the hold he has around Reaper’s chest, pulling him back up a little for better access. His other hand is coated in lube, big thumb slowly dragging round and round the hot, swollen tip of Gabriel’s cock. It feels feverish to the touch. Overripe. _Desperate_.

“Let me come, old man,” Reaper spits out. He is still wearing his mask even though the rest of him is naked. He’s all laid out for Reinhardt’s pleasure, muscles shivering beneath tight skin. “Let me _come_!” he roars, hips snapping up into Reinhardt’s grip.

Reinhardt loosens the tunnel of his big hand and just lets Reaper’s feverish cock rest against his fingers. “You’re doing wonderful. You feel so good in my arms, _Schätzchen_. You can take more for me. You can take a lot more.”

Reaper’s hands are closing and opening spasmodically - his chest beneath Reinhardt’s supporting - _restricting_ \- arm is heaving. He makes a noise that sounds like words but Reinhardt can’t quite make it out. He tilts his head and rubs his beard gently against Reaper’s temple; jostling the mask and making Gabriel jerk his head away with a little snarl.

“What were you saying?”

Gabriel is quiet other than his heavy breathing. The big muscles in his thighs are clenching and unclenching in time with his abdominal muscles. His cock oozes out a little more pre-cum and Reinhardt can feel the strong, fast heartbeat in the thick vein lying against his palm.

“I don’t think I can,” Reaper rasps finally. He sounds… young.

Reinhardt hums and pulls the arm around his chest back so he can cup one of his pecs, big fingers rubbing lovingly across his nipples until his body is tensing once more, heels digging in and toes curling as he gets ready to come; ready to shoot and unload his heavy, filled balls.

When he starts to whimper, Reinhardt stops again; seizes every movement and presses a kiss to the top of Gabriel’s head when he spits curses and slams a fist onto the mattress.

“You can,” Reinhardt promises. He lets go of Gabriel’s dick and rubs the slick hand across a sweaty belly and over wide hips - as much meant to soothe as it was to rile him up. Gabriel was so sensitive to casual kindness.

He is whining now - honest to goodness whining; body straining and hips tilting up in little thrusts, trying to fuck and get the friction he so dearly wants.

“Gorgeous. You’re breathtaking,” Reinhardt rumbles, one large fingertip starting to press and rub just beneath the flared tip, then sliding down and across the bumps of the ladder piercing down the bulky shaft.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Reaper sobs, hips jerking and cock slapping against his clenching abdomen. “Let me come. Let me _come_ damn you…”

“No.”

Gabriel digs his heels in again and presses back against the mountain holding him up. This time it is decidedly less out of needy desperation and more petulant anger.

When Reinhardt closes his big, warm hand around him again and starts to easily jerk him off, Reaper nearly jumps out of his skin. The sound the slick hand makes along his cock is filthy and wet. It sounds like he is fucking a warm, welcoming hole and that makes it that much worse. His balls are throbbing and painful. His belly is burning. He wants to come as much as he _doesn’t_ want to come.

He is caught in a stalemate that threatens to split his head, and Reinhardt is not keeping his fucking mouth shut; is, in fact, commenting the whole time with idiotic, _sincere_ compliments.

“Feel so good in my arms. Pretty little boy. You’re not going to come without permission, are you? You’re going to wait like a good boy. Let me play with your tasty body until I’ve had my fill. Maybe I should fuck you? Get that sweet little cunt on my cock and fill you up?”

Gabriel’s mind short circuits at the words. He feels hands switching after a last loving squeeze to his pec - the slick hand letting go in favor of the rough one so slippery fingers can nudge his ripe balls to the side and get at his hole; push and pet until it opens up to one broad fingertip that brings tears to his eyes as the urgency ratchets up tenfold.

“Let me come,” he sobs, hips jerking - trying to fuck the dry hand without permission and only getting the wide palm that patiently presses his cock against his own belly and holds it there without any chance of friction. “Letmecomeletmecomeletmecome,” he howls, muscles shivery and no longer his own. “ _Please_!”

The intrusion of the big finger halts. He just stays and keeps still just like the rest of the behemoth behind him.

“Breathe, _Schätzchen_ ,” Reinhardt advises good naturedly and Gabriel follows suit with a huge, rasping gulp of air that burns all the way down his lungs. He’s calming down again. _Again_. He doesn’t know how often Reinhardt has guided him to the very edge of orgasm just to let him simmer down again; balls relaxing from their desperate clench and body stopping to practically vibrate out of the skin.

“Not yet,” Reinhardt finally says gently, big thumb swiping across Gabriel’s drooling tip once, making him hiccup out a moan.

“I think you can give me two or three more times. You’re a _good boy_ , Gabriel.”

Gabriel is thankful for his mask that shields his hot, embarrassed tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	25. McCree/Hanzo Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgin McCree jerking it for Hanzo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [a picture](http://kinasty.tumblr.com/image/146815342917) on tumblr after asking permission from the artist.

“It doesn’t take much for you to get… excited, does it?” Hanzo asks almost conversationally, gaze fixed on McCree’s crotch. He doesn’t look put out - interested, if anything - yet still McCree flushes and closes the lazy spread of his legs rather self-consciously. He was too aware of his cock; pounding and fattening up just from the sight of his teammate’s naked chest.

Hanzo looked handsome sitting on the other side of the room, methodically brushing out his hair with meditative tranquility. Jesse hadn’t even been aware that he was being noticed, lounging on the bed as he had been, quietly suffering through the burning, nervous arousal.

Hanzo’s dark eyes were inquisitive, face impassive as he stared at the gratifyingly large bulge. He was playing idly with his comb, and couldn’t deny a certain shiver of pleasure running through him when he noticed McCree’s single-minded attention. The man was dedicated, at least - even if he was looking mortified and ashamed as he did now, knees starting to move together to shield the lovely mound of his cock from view, only -

“Stop.”

Hanzo’s voice brook no argument and McCree stilled immediately. He swallowed - Hanzo could hear it across the room - and blew out a sharp breath. He tried to look like he wasn’t concerned of the proceedings and utterly failed.

“I don’t mind. In fact…” Hanzo turned minimally, fingers still idly playing with his comb - half because he needed his fingers occupied lest he curled them around McCree’s unfairly gorgeous cock, and half because it made his biceps move and McCree seemed to rather like the view; if his feverish gaze and parted lips were to be believed. “I think this might be an excellent opportunity.”

McCree blinks once, twice, and still his gaze remains hazy. His hips are moving a little - it was probably getting rather uncomfortable in his pants and Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. He licks his lips and clears his throat.

“O-opportunity? For…”

“An opportunity to train yourself. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” McCree repeats dumbly. His hands are curling into loose fists. He looks almost close to tears when Hanzo lifts his comb again and resumes his grooming - like he is helpless to his own animal desires; gaze taking in the movement of Hanzo’s pecs as he moves. He groans low in his throat.

“Yes. You should pleasure yourself for me. The more you get used to company, the longer you might…” he stops himself and slants a gaze over towards McCree. He looks flustered and unsure like a little boy. “… I would like to witness it,” Hanzo admits a little more gently. Coaxing - and is rewarded by McCree’s shuddering breath as he actually moves without further quarrell, fingers shaky as he opens his belt buckle, face half hidden behind the brim of his hat.

He’s spreading his legs and pulling his booted feet up unto Hanzo’s bed, and Hanzo can’t find it in himself to tell him off because McCree has pulled out his cock and it looks… _good_. Thick and long, and flushed just as dark as McCree’s embarrassed face.

His mouth runs dry at the sight. He remembers having his hands on it; getting ready to fuck his throat onto McCree’s fat cock, only for him to come way too fast, and…

“B-be gentle, darlin’,” Jesse says, voice wavering. He has got his fingers around the base, pushing his cock away from his shivering belly. He is holding it up for Hanzo’s viewing pleasure, Hanzo realizes with a small jolt.

He already looks so close already. Again. He can’t bring himself to be annoyed at it - not when McCree is peeking at him from beneath his hat, sweaty and riled up just from the sight of Hanzo naked to his waist, brushing out his hair.

“Go slow,” Hanzo tells him, voice pitched low, dark eyes taking in the sight of Jesse leaning back on his bed, biting his lips and trying _so hard_ not to let his shivery hips jerk up coltish into his own, caressing fingers.

 

“I’ll be gentle with you, Jesse. Just go slow. You’re doing very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	26. McCree/Hanzo Prostate milking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Hanzo is too strung tight to let go and McCree needs to help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to keep confusion at a minimum: McCree is trying to nurse from Hanzo's tits in the beginning; in other words, Hanzo produces milk.

Jesse rolls his eyes up, trying to peer at Hanzo’s face. He couldn’t see much other than the sharp line of his jaw, but he could clearly hear the grinding of his teeth as he tried, and failed, to relax enough to properly let down.

McCree had been suckling for a good fifteen minutes with only the occasional hard-won drop coating his tongue - and while McCree was a very patient man when it was about nursing, Hanzo really wasn’t. He was becoming agitated with the dull hurt and the tantalizing wet pressure of Jesse’s mouth, even if he tried so very hard to seem calm and collected.

McCree rumbles low and soothing right against the wet, swollen nipple he let pop out of his mouth, slick fingers trailing up the inside of Hanzo’s leg. McCree was nothing if not prepared.

Hanzo grunts and turns his head to the side as if miffed at Jesse’s cheekiness. His hole however, when Jesse pets it and playfully pushes against the muscle, opens up more than eager - the muscles are soft and accepting, suckling him in and holding him snug inside. He can just about see the swell of Hanzo’s cheeks, and they’re flushed red. He has no idea what it means, but Hanzo hasn’t kicked him in the head yet so that was a good sign in his book.

Hanzo’s prostate felt just as ripe and swollen as his tits, and a little nudge with Jesse’s fingertip had the other man jerking and hissing through his teeth.

“Hey there,” McCree croons. He leans up on an elbow and stares at Hanzo’s flushed, sweaty face - and the swell of his full tits - as he starts slowly circling his prostate; patient drags around the area with wide, blunt fingertips.

He’s fascinated to see tears well up in Hanzo’s liquid dark eyes, jaw loosening from the desperate, hurt clench.

His hips are restless - curving up as if fucking; mindlessly reacting to the intimate petting he’s receiving from the inside.

“That’s it,” Jesse murmurs, head lowering to Hanzo’s left pec. “ _That’s_ it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	27. McCree/Hanzo Exhibitionism Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is a shameless slut that likes to sample the goods out in the open.

McCree was still out of breath, chest heaving from their morning jog through the park. Fog crawled across the ground, and soon he would begin to shiver; there was no way he would escape the morning chill - not as sweaty as he was.

He couldn’t say that he minded too much, given the sight presented to him right now.

“So that’s why you wanted me so badly to come run with you,” he drawled, one hand reaching out for Hanzo’s jaw to scratch his fingers along the sharp line of his beard, the thumb of the other hooking into the waistband of his sweats.

“You wanna play out here in the open?” He cast a quick look around. They were behind a tree and some scrubby bushes, but to call it secluded would have been ridiculous.

Hanzo kept staring up at him in a kind of adoration that was going right to Jesse’s head. He wasn’t answering so much with words as he was with actions - his tongue flicking against the rough pad of Jesse’s thumb as soon as it slid close enough to reach.

McCree wondered if any of their team mates had even the slightest clue that Hanzo was, in fact, a huge slut.

“Damn,” he muttered, a nervous kind of energy tightening his belly in anticipation. “Never done shit like this before.” But never shall it be said Jesse McCree would let himself get outgunned by some kinky, nymphomaniac ninja. He still had some tricks up his sleeve.

“You want a piece of this?” he crooned, and pushed his hoodie up over his belly. Hanzo’s pupils blew wide, a little stream of haze puffing up as he blows out his breath. He manages to look annoyed and excited at the same time, even as he lets himself get slowly guided closer towards Jesse’s body.

“No… No I know what you _really_ want. But you could indulge an old cowboy, couldn’t ya? Be a little sweet to me after you dragged me out here for your kinky outdoor shit…”

He trailed off, sighing as Hanzo nuzzled forward into his belly, cheek and nose rubbing against the crisp hair covering it; lips wet and warm and welcome as they kiss and suckle at his belly button.

“ _Damn_ ,” Jesse sighed, free hand on the back of Hanzo’s head, idly playing with his little pony tail.

–

He can’t withhold his cock for too long. Hanzo is needy and single minded, and their open surroundings seem to rile him up more than usual.

Soon Jesse has to restrain him; tell him in no uncertain terms to behave himself while he drags the swollen tip of his cock across Hanzo’s wet lips and smears spit and pre-cum against those sharp, royal looking cheek bones.

The waistband of his pants has been hooked just beneath his balls. He is steaming into the cold morning air, and he feels like a fucking king when he pulls Hanzo in and makes him rub his face against his sweaty balls. He nearly fucking comes into Hanzo’s inky dark hair when all he does is groan and nuzzle in even further; tonguing cheekily and as wet as possible at his nuts before Jesse pushes him away again.

Hanzo - for as testy and sarcastic as he can be - just lets him go at it. He is puffing out foggy breaths, mouth soft and open and welcoming him to dip even just the tip inside. He looks nearly drunk on lust and gets almost adorably excited when Jesse starts jerking off right in front of his face.

He strains against the tight grip on his hair, eyes flicking up to Jesse’s flushed, intent face, then back down to his cock staring at the way his foreskin hides the fat, swollen head again and again; getting it to emerge shiny wet just a second later.

“Soon. Fuck. Soon,” Jesse groans, eyebrows drawn together. For a moment he forgets where they are - barely, _badly_ hidden behind a bit of greenery - and just watches as Hanzo opens his mouth wide in anticipation, tongue out and waiting, shoulders positively fucking vibrating with excitement.

Jesse McCree might be a lot, but he sure as hell was not cruel. How could he make Hanzo wait when he’s been so patient for his morning treat?

His chin is lying heavy on his breast, and he thinks dimly that he probably was drooling, but he couldn’t care enough - not when he can watch how Hanzo lets him jerk off onto his tongue; eyes heavy lidded and glazed, staring up at him in satisfaction.

He can’t help but wipe the last clinging drop against the whiskers of Hanzo’s mustache, a dopey grin on his face, staring at the mess he made of Hanzo - and not hearing the heavy footsteps behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	28. Roadhog/Hanzo+McCree Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo likes every kind of D and McCree likes watching him take it.

Roadhog’s hands looked massive clamped around Hanzo’s thighs just above his knees - especially with how the archer’s stumps were wiggling pitifully in the air, jerking with every new drag of the wide cock against the walls of his well-used hole.

From his vantage point, McCree could see the strain of Hanzo’s hamstrings. It looked like it should hurt but the archer hadn’t protested the forceful wide spread of his thighs, yet; though Jesse wondered dimly if he even was still capable of coherent speech anymore.

His dark almond shaped eyes were wide and staring up at the masked mountain ranging above him, arms up and hands clawed into the bedding as he got fucked in sharp thrusts that had the whole bed move and shake. He cried out - inarticulate and animalistic - with every new shove into his body, drool slicking down the corner of his mouth and eyelashes clumped together with tears of overstimulation.

No, McCree wasn’t sure at all if Hanzo could do more than just fucking take it at the moment.

“Doin’ mighty fine, babydoll,” he drawled, hand wiping a strand of thick, dark hair from Hanzo’s lips because it didn’t look like he would have the coordination to do it himself - and McCree was nothing if not caring. 

He glances up at a low, forceful grunt from Mako. He was an impressive sight, that was for sure. Huge muscles and solid, round belly that pressed down onto Hanzo’s cock whenever he leaned forward enough, squishing the poor thing between their slick, sweaty bodies and making Hanzo howl with the dual sensation of getting fucked on what was one of the fattest cocks McCree had ever seen, and the warm, smooth skin of Roadhog’s belly on his jerking, wet dick.

“You’re taking him so well. Fuck, you’re gonna gape when he pulls out. Don’t know if your hole’ll ever be like it used to. Maybe you’ll just have to live with it; that I can slide right into your slutty ass and fuck you whenever without any prep. Because you took his fat cock like a three dollar whore and let him ream you for hours-”

He was babbling utter nonsense and he didn’t care. He always babbled when he was excited, face feeling hot and cock feeling even hotter as he watched Roadhog fuck the archer with an air of utter detachment. Mako was practically silent, other than the occasional grunt - the mask he was wearing not giving anything away.

It was surreal and scary and _perfect_ , if Jesse was quite honest - especially when Mako let one of Hanzo’s legs go in favor of leaning forward and getting his big, meaty hand onto the archer’s chest, groping him with an air of entitlement that had McCree’s cock jerk in his slacks.

Hanzo had taken to whining - high pitched and mindless, squished beneath the huge bulk, free leg trying to curl around Roadhog’s hips as he kept fucking; driving in deep and spreading Hanzo out on his cock.

McCree could only imagine how it would be later; when Mako pulled out and left Hanzo lying in a pool of spreading cum - ready for McCree to slip into place and sample the goods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	29. Roadhog/Hanzo+McCree Cuckolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog shows McCree how Hanzo needs to get dicked.

“Look. McCree.”

Jesse doesn’t know how he could ever not look. Hanzo’s back is arched to a degree that looks painful, mouth wide open in soundless lust.

He looked sleek like a cat in Roadhog’s lap, tight muscled belly slick with sweat rubbing against the generous, huge curve of the mercenary’s stomach whenever he jerked, hips gyrating.

“He doesn’t want to give my cock up, McCree.”

Mako’s voice was coming right out of a nightmare; deep and ethereal - it seemed to be smooth as silk and wheezing at the same time. It gave McCree the creeps, but it wasn’t enough to make him not want to fuck his fist - so who was the bigger freak here?

“Look at him go,” Mako purred, huge hands on Hanzo’s hips, fingers digging into the tight, small ass to pull the cheeks apart and give Jesse a better look of Hanzo’s hole - stretched and puffy around the fat cock spreading him open. Hanzo cried out a profanity at the new stretch, arms shooting up, hands scrabbling without purchase against the swell of Roadhog’s belly before he gave up with a rough sob and just held on as best he could - hugging the big man’s stomach.

“He’s working it,” Roadhog informed him - as if Jesse wasn’t able to see it. The way Hanzo’s rim tightened and relaxed, his body massaging the dick warming him up from the inside. “Doesn’t want to give it up. Glad to finally have a big dick destroying him.”

Jesse could feel his face flush with eager embarrassment, belly curling up into a tight fist of want. He was not badly endowed - but no match to Roadhog’s sheer girth.

Hanzo let himself sag forward as much as possible, forehead pressing high up against Mako’s belly just beneath his wide, muscled chest. He was shuddering all over, muscles in his back twitching for McCree’s viewing pleasure. He was soaked in sweat, and McCree dimly thought he’d never been as worked up when it was just the two of them.

He likes it. Watching Mako drag a huge hand along Hanzo’s back and tell him - not unkindly - “Little sluts need big cocks. I know… I know…”

Roadhog was only talking in short sentences, but they were sinuous - sliding right into McCree’s core and slotting into a spot he hadn’t known existed until he watched Hanzo’s eyes light up when seeing Mako’s dick. (Until he saw how Hanzo fucking cuddled with the meaty cock, rubbing his face against it and mouthing at the spongy tip until it was swelling for him and Mako was good to go.)

He was right, too - Hanzo looked loathe to lift up even an inch; preferring to just twist his hips, drag Roadhog’s cock along his needy walls and have himself stuffed to the brim.

Jesse wondered whether he had a bulge in his belly. He wondered whether next time Hanzo would turn around and let him watch from the front - how his face became slack with lust, chest heaving with gasped, little breaths.

“Watch and learn, McCree.”

McCree had never been good at that; not in his Deadlock days and not in his time at Blackwatch. But fuck him if he wasn’t turned on by Roadhog showing him how to fuck his archer silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	30. Reaper/Hanzo Stripper AU Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper and Hanzo are strippers and have an intense show.

The light dims, music lowering to a mere background murmur; low and throbbing with drums that seem to mimic a beating heart. The crowd is still talking - vying for drinks and the occasional lap dance alike. It is not quite certain where in the room the bustle starts to cease and heads start to turn towards the rhythmic metallic clinking coming from behind the dark curtain, but eventually, everybody settles in, fingers drumming nervously and knees bouncing - tonight, nobody is new to the club, and the anticipation of what they knew was going to come is palpable.

The music lifts into a harsher, more prominent rhythm when the curtain twitches open to allow the two dancers on stage; the metallic clinking louder and more melodious as they make their way down the catwalk in slow, measured steps, the chains binding them dully reflecting the moody, soft light in the room.

The air - thick and warm from too many excited bodies and bad air conditioning - suddenly almost feels oppressive. Nobody talks. Eyes follow the movements of their bodies; the rigid lines of their proud backs.

Reaper’s strides are long, eating up ground and putting himself in front of his partner within just a couple steps. Soon, he yanks on the chain binding their wrists together. He seems impatient. Ill-tempered. His body is a coiled spring, muscles tight and rigid in his shoulders, and the swell of his biceps.

Hanzo stumbles from the sudden jerk. He doesn’t make it look like stumbling, though - a graceful lunge of his slim, prosthetic feet that enables the narrow, long cloth covering his crotch to flutter and give the audience tantalizing glimpses of his cock. When he rights himself, his dark eyes are narrowed and boring into the broad back of his partner.

The onlookers can’t figure out whether the two genuinely hate each other or whether it is just an elaborate, well-trained act.

Maybe both.

They start a tight, dance-like circle that has their half-naked bodies almost touching; predators looking - waiting - for a sign of weakness in the other. Their wrists subtly flick in time with the music - sending the chain to jingle again and again as they move, shoulders round with muscle and rolling as if preparing for a fight that only Reaper really looks equipped for with heavy boots and protective mask. The thick muscles of his thighs bulge and shift against his fishnet stockings.

Next to him, Hanzo looks shockingly naked and vulnerable; body on display other than the length of silk binding his hair and the narrow strips of fabric in front of his cock and ass, filigrane lengths of metal around his hips keeping them in place.

His muscles are shifting in the light; he looks full of barely restrained power - small and compact and not to be underestimated.

Reaper has the height advantage, though. He is boring down on his partner, mask glinting like bone in the diffuse light, body big and overbearing, boots heavy next to the positively delicate synthetic feet as he forces Hanzo to retreat before him; makes him take one small step at a time.

Hanzo’s eyes are narrowed, the corner of his mouth lifted above the snarl of his teeth as he is forced to take yet another step back, shoulder blades almost brushing the pole Reaper tries to trap him against.

Their hard stares bore into each other, the music thudding around them as Reaper suddenly surges forward while simultaneously yanking on the chain binding them, forcing Hanzo into the hard lines of his body, their heaving chests pressed closely, nipples tight and excited despite their murderous looks.

Their audience stares in silent, conflicted arousal.

.o.

Every time Hanzo squirms, Reaper pulls the chain tighter around his neck. His range of expression is limited due to the mask, yet dark satisfaction is rolling off of him in dizzying waves as he tilts his head and presses close to the other dancer in a parody of comfort.

Hanzo’s back is arched, leaning against the man behind, face a little red from lack of air. He has one arm up, hand clawing at the side of Reaper’s hood - he is not struggling against the chokehold his partner has on him, despite the chain binding their wrists together digging visibly sharp into his windpipe.

Their bodies seem to be convulsing with the music; slow, undulating waves as Reaper lets his free, unbound hand wander across Hanzo’s chest; squeezing the pecs and cupping them for their audience’s viewing pleasure. He is showing Hanzo off with a kind of self-indulgence that is almost more obscene than the act itself - an owner presenting their pet.

When he pinches one tan, oval nipple, he stoically takes Hanzo’s needy backwards arch, his heavily booted feet planted wide for better purchase.

He is standing like a rock; expressionless and terrifying as he pulls on the chain again and gets Hanzo to convulse like a snake when his throat gets crushed cruelly, and his breath shuts off completely for just a few precious seconds. Reaper takes the struggles of his partner’s compact, strong body, free arm curling around his waist, dark hand splayed on the quivering abs of his belly - as possessive a gesture as it is weirdly comforting.

The music starts to dip, the heavy beat softening into a more sensual roll of dark tones as Reaper’s hand starts turning, heel grinding against Hanzo’s belly, until long thick fingers point down towards the other dancer’s crotch, drawing the gaze of the enraptured audience lower… lower… towards the lift of the small cloth Hanzo is wearing, his cock tip perfectly outlined beneath the thin material; made see-through by the wetness seeping into the fabric. It is clinging to the head of Hanzo’s cock, slick and obscene, showing off the swollen shape as it flexes for their entertainment, lifting the cloth up enough to give a little glimpse of his swollen, ripe balls.

Hanzo’s lips are moving, eyes staring at the ceiling sightlessly.

When Reaper’s hand slides lower, the palm rubbing across the wet outline of his cock with an air of total possessiveness, Hanzo jerks once again in one powerful, smooth wave, the machinery in his calves hissing as he rolls up unto the balls of his feet, just so he can fuck against the broad, brown hand.

Reaper pulls his head back for a second - changes sides so he can use his chained hand to almost lovingly card through the thick, loose hair at Hanzo’s temple. He looks sinister as death himself, large and dark, towering behind Hanzo with an indifferent face of bone white metal.

He seems cool and aloof even when he curls his hand around the other man’s cock, broad thumb rubbing firm - almost painfully so - over the wet tip peeking pink through the eggshell color of the fabric. The music is low by now - nearly non-existent, so the soft tinkle of their connecting chain can be heard as Reaper keeps petting his partner, wrist flicking to let the links clank together - never letting anybody forget the power he holds, even as he is benevolent enough to let Hanzo fuck into the cup of his hand. (Benevolent enough to let him breathe without pain, and swallow without bruising himself up.)

Hanzo’s chest is flushed beneath the warm, yellow light shining down on them. It’s heaving and shiny with sweat, his mouth dropped open as his abs quiver and clench, hips curling forward into Reaper’s large hand.

His fingers are still clenched in the man’s hood, pulling in mindless pleasure until Reaper rears his head back and shakes it like an unwilling hound while simultaneously taking his hand away from Hanzo’s crotch and placing it on his hip instead - giving the dark room full of anonymous faces a perfect view of the man’s cock lined out beneath the wet material clinging to it.

Only when the desperate clench of Hanzo’s body relaxes, hand losing its grip in favor of reaching for Reaper’s hip like the other one, does the other man resume; fingers dancing along the wet dick beneath the cloth, dragging along the prominent, fat vein and circling the swollen head until the audience can hear the breathless cry coming from the dancer.

Reaper’s shoulders shake in obvious mirth. His hand stops petting Hanzo’s hair and slowly reaches for the short length of chain. He drags his movements as long as he can, obviously revelling in the sudden tension in the room; how their audience seems to hold a collective breath in preparation for what is to come. Hanzo’s eyes glaze over in the dim light. Large and black and shining like polished onyx as Reaper strangulates him with slow, perverse pleasure and presses his large hand against the jerking line of his excited cock.

The music has stopped. The wet sounds of Hanzo’s desperate fight for oxygen are loud and horrible and gorgeous in the sticky room. His abs are clenching, the large muscles in his thigh shivering as he fucks frantically into the loose tunnel of Reaper’s hand, the cloth covering his dick sliding wet and clinging along the slick skin of his cock.

When he comes, he does so silently; mouth open and body one long, quivering string, fingertips digging into Reaper’s flesh with bruising strength.

Reaper laughs. A low droning sound straight from a nightmare as he pulls his hand away and shows the room Hanzo’s shame soaking into the fabric of his cloth.

It is only when Hanzo starts convulsing again, drool slicking from the corner of his mouth, that he suddenly slackens the tightness in the chain - does, in fact, curl it from around Hanzo’s neck, a pretty ring of bruises circling the man’s throat like a collar as his shaking legs can’t keep his body weight up and he collapses to the floor.

Reaper stands impassive above him; silent again. Watching predator like as the shorter man tries to get back to his feet - to get himself back together - and fails miserably.

Music starts bleeding in once more in heavy, hypnotising beats. Uncertainty starts to bleed through the room, people shifting in their seats, casting little glances about - until Reaper moves again; drawing gazes back and arresting them with his sheer presence.

He slowly crosses his arms across the width of his muscular chest,legs shifting closer together, knee lifting minimally as he shoves his left foot forward and nudges the steel cap of his toes against Hanzo’s shoulder… collar bone… throat… uses it to tip the man’s chin up until Hanzo is forced to stare into the darkness behind the lights surrounding the stage before he turns his head from the staring eyes with a dull flush creeping through his cheeks.

Reaper places his boot down in front of him. He seems to be waiting for something and, when nothing happens, he suddenly lifts his other leg and lowers his foot onto the nape of Hanzo’s neck, forcefully pressing him down.

Only the people in the front row can hear the low, aggressive hiss of “Do it!”. There is another second of hesitation, Hanzo struggling half-heartedly and weak as a kitten against the boot pressing him down without mercy, before he stops and closes his eyes in something like relieved defeat.

When he starts to do it - starts to lick the steel cap and black leather of Reaper’s boot without a doubt - he applies himself to the task with single-minded determination.

His eyes are closed, lashes lying dark and pretty against his sharp cheekbones as he first just licks, then kisses, then rubs his cheek against the warmed, wet metal like a cat seeking affection.

Reaper is impassive above him, head tilted, mask watching the proceedings, and only the prominent bulge in his tight, skimpy shorts showing off his interest in what he was seeing. When he pulls away, Hanzo chases after him, pink tongue out and eyes snapping up towards his mask. He almost looks out of it - his aloofness and almost feline pride having given way to a submissive kind of desperation that couldn’t be part of the act… could it?

The beat surges and Reaper rounds Hanzo, arm held in deference to the chain connecting them, powerful leg swinging across Hanzo’s hip until he is standing above him, watching, assessing, head tilting slowly from side to side as he seems to contemplate how to continue playing.

In the end, he drops to his knees, free arm reaching beneath Hanzo’s belly to hitch him up, get his round ass in the air and on display for the audience who watches, struck silent and with stuttering breaths, as Reaper starts moving; a slow, dirty grind of his crotch against his partner’s ass, rutting him like an animal to the beat of the heavy warm beat of the music.

He fakes at fucking Hanzo, yet it still seems more obscene than the real thing; thick muscles bulging against the restraints of the fishnets, sweat on his back gleaming as he curls it into his thrusts, hips snapping forward and driving against Hanzo with selfish, sensual finality.

The chain is rattling with his violent movements until Reaper grabs a hold of it with an air of impatience, bound hand splaying between Hanzo’s shoulderblades and pressing him down to the floor, making him rub his face against the dirty stage as the other arm around his hips keeps him hoisted up for the faux fucking he is receiving right there on the stage.

Hanzo looks blissed out, arms, when he tries to stem against the tide, shaking fiercely until he simply curls them around the pole next to his head and holds on for dear life. Reaper snarls behind his mask and stands one boot up next to Hanzo’s knee with a heavy, dull thump, body slicked in sweat as he pulls himself up higher, and practically mounts his partner like an animal, fingernails digging into Hanzo’s back and slowly scratching him up as Reaper gets more and more into the act.

The rhythm of the song picks up - and so do Reaper’s movements. He is leaning forward, head hanging low as he seems to fully concentrate on the task of drilling Hanzo into the stage, make him take a cock that wasn’t available for the taking, grunting low and fierce with every sharp thrust that presses his poor cock against the lush curve of Hanzo’s ass, squeezing it painfully, deliciously.

The sweat pours off his shoulders, tickles down his back, and his toes curl in his boots, wondering what the boss would say if he simply said ‘fuck it’ to everything and pulled his cock out; shoved Hanzo’s ridiculous little cloth piece covering his ass to the side and shoved in deep where Hanzo was warm and ready; loose from earlier and…

The music stops abruptly, and so does Reaper, chest heaving, eyes wide behind his mask, staring down at the back of Hanzo’s head (staring at the way Hanzo slowly, almost shyly drags his tongue across the floor as if fucking missing Reaper’s boots).

The room is silent, charged with a kind of feverish, mad lust as Reaper makes his protesting muscles move and forces himself up, arm imperious as he jerks on the chain and forces Hanzo to rise from his breathless, powerless sprawl on the floor to a more-or-less firm stance on all fours, and then, after another little encouraging tug, urges him to slowly rise unto his feet.

Reaper leaves. Slow, cadenced thumps of his boots, not unlike his solo shows when the music hasn’t started yet and he enters the stage with overbearing confidence. The chain pulls taut between them just once - then Hanzo starts walking, face flushed but impassive; as if the front of his little crotch piece wasn’t soaked with cum, clinging to the tantalizing swing of his cock.

Only a few more steps. Only a few more fucking steps and then Reaper would be able to slam Hanzo against the next best wall and finally drive into him like he pretended to do on stage.

Only a few more steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	31. Roadhog/Reaper Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high after a mission. Roadhog lets it out on a secretly eager Reaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Ooooh?? What about reaper or 76 being manhandled by roadhog? And they're not used to being tossed around so much because usually they're the big ones. But roadhog can bc he's MASSIVE"
> 
> Anonymous said: “Could you maybe write something with Roadhog and someone OTHER thank junkrat? I just feel like he doesn’t get enough love on his own, you know”

“This is not going to happen. Get away from me.” Gabriel grits his teeth, staring up at Roadhog. He already pulled his mask and cloak off and he hates it because Mako is still in full combat gear.

He is huge and imposing, dirt caked and sweaty, and actually fucking steaming in the relative coolness of the showers. Roadhog looks raw and vital and Gabriel doesn’t want to be as turned on by it as he is. He doesn’t want to love how Mako can simply push him up against lockers and hold him there with huge hands and a large, firm belly.

He doesn’t want to imagine kneeling before the mercenary and letting him fuck his meaty, sweaty cock into his throat. He does it, anyway. Gabriel Reyes always has been fucking weak and having died and come back seemed not to have changed anything in that regard.

He bares his teeth in a snarl that transforms into a wheeze of pain when Mako pushes forward and squishes him against the wall. He is silent; staring down on Gabriel with the stitched-on grin on his pig mask, and it chills Reaper to the bone as much as it turns him on. He claws at Roadhog’s huge arms, easily drawing blood, and all that elicits is a low grunt that almost sounds amused. Pleasured. Intrigued.

He almost fucking whines when those huge hands with chipped fingernails painted black easily pull him away from the lockers and turn him around. And if that wasn’t something. Getting manhandled and shoved around like he was nothing but a little brat. Like he had no more substance than a dainty woman in her prettiest Sunday dress.

“No!” he growls, talons digging into the lockers and denting the thin metal. “Fucking gross pig, go take a shower at least…”

They were both high on post-fight adrenaline. He could hear Roadhog’s heavy, excited breaths behind him; could feel the fumble of a huge and impatient - but surprisingly gentle - hand at his pants, trying to pull them down.

After another grit of his teeth, Gabriel helps him; cock feeling swollen and feverish in his tight combat gear, muscles clenching in anticipation.

God help him, but he was looking forward to getting mounted by the huge, sweaty man, and fucked until his eyes were tearing up with how deep Roadhog drilled into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	32. Ana/Reinhardt Femdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt is Ana's sweet boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Ana Anon! (too shy to come off anon i apologize) tbh both works. Ana being a badass mom before pre-HQ meltdown, with silly stepdad Reinhardt, and then BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. KINKY. but then current timeline, Reinhardt taking one look at Ana and immediately melts back into subby babe. all the guys baffled cuz isn't this the sweet dom Reinhardt?? who dommed them so hard? but nope Ana got him tamed, he is her happy pupper."

It was never hard to find Reinhardt within a given base. He was a man full of mirth and opinions and not shy to express any of it while reaching for his team mates with large hands and pulling them beneath heavy, sheltering arms to give them affectionate squeezes.

Reinhardt was, despite his intimidating stature and wild looking face, easy to love. A man with a certain kind of presence and notoriety that encouraged attention, respect - adoration - by some kind of unspoken law of nature.

It is therefore all the more surprising when all of that easy going, straight backed confidence melts away so easily - eagerly - when Miss Amari calls; voice warm and a little scratchy, standing in the doorway to whatever room Reinhardt’s booming voice had let her this time.

And nobody would be able to stop him when she beckoned with a crooked smile and an outstretched hand, her one good eye friendly and crinkling at the corners.

She hadn’t had the pleasure of his company in too long and seemed to savor his subservience all the more for it.

“Do you want to follow me?” she’d ask, voice not lowered in a hush, because whispering was for shame, and she could never be ashamed of her gorgeous, little pet - and he’d always follow her; would crawl at her heels if she so fancied.

She did - sometimes. Not in the open, though, no. Reinhardt’s submission was for her; and her alone. Maybe she’d show him off one day; when she had sated herself enough to quench the clawing hunger of needing him for herself all the time. The silly need to put this behemoth of a man in her pocket and carry him around with her.

As it was, she let him strip and kneel for her in her quarters; shallow basins of water and fragrant oils already readied and put into place.

“You have never stopped fighting, have you?” Ana questions with a voice like a rusty purr. Her hair gleams like steel in the setting sun. She rounds the large man in measured steps, hands wandering across the breadth of his shoulders, eyes taking in the massive expanse of his chest; the tight coils of his stomach; the heavy, relaxed weight of his cock against thighs as massive as marble.

Reinhardt is a work of art. He reminds her of architecture from home.

He catches her hand and hides it between his warm, large palms. He breathes a kiss onto it. “You haven’t either.”

Attentive, lovely little slave.

Ana tuts and extracts her hand after a quick brush of her thumb against his mouth.

“This is not about me. You were so loud again. I think you would do good to just be still and let me talk. don’t you think?”

His grin his broad and gentle, his good eye attentive, yet tired.

They both were. So tired.

Rounding him again, looking at his lovely submission before her, she can’t deny the prickling feeling of rejuvenation.

Ana washes him. He moves beneath her fingers like a benevolent lion. He is purring for her, chin up high and thick throat bared for her fingers.

He doesn’t flinch when she puts her hands around his neck.

He smells of the oils Ana lovingly massaged into his body, and she wants to lick him up. Wants him to lay himself out for her so she can crawl all over his body; rub herself against the hard ridges of muscle; drag her messy, little slit against the hard line of his hip and have him walk around with her mark on his skin.

He would do it, too. 

His cock flexes into her hand; warm and big and lively, his chest heaving as she squeezes him and lets go once more.

“Show yourself off for me,” she demands softly, her fingers starting on pulling off her clothes - and she can’t help but laugh at how eager her boy is when he sees his mistress revealing herself to him; his mouth falling open and eyes going wide. In this moment, Reinhardt looks like a young man again. Eager. Needy.

His fist is clumsy when he curls it around his cock and flicks his wrist - and becomes lazy when she sits down in a chair and spreads her legs for his viewing pleasure. He slows down to a crawl - then stops completely, gaze fixed on the dark flush of her cunt; the slick she smears all over her folds with teasing, slim fingers.

“Lazy boy. I thought you would thank me for the privilege of touching yourself for me,” Ana chides, lined face relaxed, voice gentle and teasing despite the rustiness.

She crooks her finger; beckons him closer.

“In that case… I think you shouldn’t have the right anymore, do you? Come here and show me how much you remember, instead. Pretty pet. Lovely boy. Such a gorgeous, little slave for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	33. Ana/Reinhardt Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can't always let her boy have what he wants.

He strains before her - a mountain range moving and heaving; straining against nothing but his own desire to please her.

“Oh God,” he groans, abs clenching and hips jerking. He chokes when the motion drags her fingers against his prostate, and she eases off; watches his throat bulge beneath the thick growth of his beard.

“You look gorgeous,” Ana promises him, neatly kneeling in midst the jerking sprawl of his legs, fingers sliding out of the warm, little slit of his hole to reapply more lube. She leans down, silver hair sliding across her naked shoulders, and breathes warm across the wet tip of his cock.

Reinhardt jerks violent enough to rattle the whole bed. His good eye is wide open in panic as he digs his heels into the mattress and twitches his hips up involuntarily - big cock slapping meaty and wet against his belly when Ana smoothly leans out of the way.

“Please! Please, I… Bitte. Bitte lass mich-” He tends to lapse back into German when he’s agitated and she can’t help but find it endearing.

She hums, eye only half open, watching his desperation in lazy contentment. His deep, booming voice has become reedy with his anguish but not less appealing. When she sits down between her ankles, she can feel it vibrate through the bed and against her very core, tickling her wet folds and teasing her own desire.

She waits until he has stopped spasming, then reaches forward and drags the tip of one finger against the sensitive head and along the swollen, feverishly hot ridge. She watches more clear liquid ooze out.

“No,” she purrs simply - voice not unkind; yet Reinhardt sobs, body shaking and balls moving beneath her carefully watching gaze. “You can hold on longer for me. Age hasn’t helped your patience much, has it? But I can assist you. My pretty treat.”

She watches a string of sticky pre-cum stretch between her finger and his cock, and rubs the wetness into Reinhardt’s hipbone. When she reaches to the side, her small, high breasts rubbing against his thigh, he starts whimpering, hips moving and broad chest heaving. When she leans back up and starts attaching the toy to her harness, he suddenly moves in primal, animal fear; the big behemoth of a man pulling up his knees and putting them together; shielding his weeping cock and sweet little peach of a hole from her surprised gaze.

“You’re a stubborn one today, aren’t you?” Ana muses. She is not overly concerned - quite the contrary. The sight of Reinhardt shivering and vulnerable before her is like an aphrodisiac. She can’t help but touch herself; pull on the tight buds of her nipples and slide fingers through the slickness of her slit.

He isn’t answering, but she can see the flush of embarrassment on his face. He looks chagrined like a little boy. Ana presses a kiss against his hairy chin and laughs at him. Reinhardt can’t help but grin a little as well.

“Did you think you would come without permission?” she wants to know, small, strong hands on his ankles, thumbs rubbing against the tops of his feet. He squirms; then nods.

“Ahhh but you needn’t be afraid. I know you wouldn’t have disappointed me. You give yourself too little credit. I’ll show you, my sweet little treat. C’mon. Open up, now.”

She tugs on his ankles and he lets himself get arranged; pliant as a kitten as he watches her with simple, open adoration. Ana rubs her hands along his thighs, feeling the stone hard muscle and coarse hair beneath her fingertips.

She had never lacked confidence, but slowly sliding her toy into the warm clench of his body, seeing the needy greed as his eye takes in the sway and bounce of her tits, Ana can’t help but feel flattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	34. McCree/Hanzo Yakuza AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakuza Hanzo caught himself a McCree and shows his Commander how he 'tortures' him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "And throwback to that catch me if you can au, where hanzo was still goading reaper. Imagine reaper getting a phonecall from hanzo, untraceable ofc, and mccree is on the other side moaning and begging for Hanzo's dick. And hanzo telling mccree how much he likes it and Gabriel is fucking FUMING"
> 
> Note: There was a little talk over on my Tumblr about an AU where Hanzo gets his hands on McCree and shows him off to a very jealous Commander Reyes via pictures and videos; changing location often so they won't get caught. I dabbed it the Catch Me If You Can AU.

Hanzo harshly flicks the very tip of McCree’s ear, making him flinch and howl in enraged indignation and pain.

“No, dog. I haven’t given you permission yet.”

He watches McCree in the mirror ahead; the way he gingerly moves his jaw, teeth clacking on the metal bit Hanzo forced between them earlier. He is tilting his head blindly, cheeks flushed a dull red beneath the blindfold.

Hanzo curls the reins once more around his fist, watching how it pulls McCree’s head back; showing off the strong line of his jaw, liberally peppered with stubble. He would need to shave him if he were to sample the dog’s mouth between his legs again, but for now he had other ideas.

Carefully - silently - he places the phone on the floor in front of his stolen treasure.

McCree whines when the motion brings them closer together; Hanzo’s cock slipping into the crack of the dog’s ass, leaving a wet smear at his tail bone before he pulls back once again.

McCree huffs like a stallion and lowers his head, putting its weight on the reins in Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo can see the way his ribs expand with his careful, deep breaths. He delights in how vocal McCree is, and hopes his commander hasn’t hung up yet.

(He doubts he has. Reyes was obsessive enough to want to hear the degradation of his former toy.)

“Do you want this, dog?” Hanzo accompanies the leering question by slapping his cock against McCree’s ass. The mutt shuffles his knees farther apart, back arching down to try and open his ass up farther. Hanzo was quite sure he would have spread his cheeks for him, had his arms not been bound behind his back - pure safety measures.

And as lovely as the sight was - the knowledge that he’d broken the American dog down enough to get him to display like a bitch in heat - it would not do; no, not at all.

Hanzo jerks at the reins, and slaps his other hand against McCree’s thigh, connecting with a loud, satisfying smack.

McCree’s head rears back, a startled shout ripping out of his throat. His head tries to swerve from side to side, disoriented, blood that had rushed from his face, coming back to suffuse his cheeks as his shout dwindled into a moan, lips wet and swollen around the bit digging into the corners of his mouth.

“I asked you a question,” Hanzo goads, voice silky and dripping with venom. He pets a hand down McCree’s sweaty side in a parody of affection, then curls it around his cock once more to help himself slip it through the crack with slow, sensual thrusts. “Do. You. Want. This.”

His fingers tickle McCree’s bound testicles; feeling how warm and swollen they are. Filled with warm, thick cum that the dog had been collecting for a week now.

McCree looks feverish, even with his eyes blindfolded. Drool is slicking down his bottom lip, teeth gnashing on the bit as he shakes his head against the tight reins without any relief. Hanzo’s fist is curled tight around the leather, not giving an inch.

“Yesh,” McCree mumbles, voice wrecked and deep. “Pleashe… gi’ me… gi’ me…”

Hanzo’s fingers trail further up, easily dipping into McCree’s hole; soft and accepting from days of relentless fucking. It feels hot; the rim puffy and nearly inflamed looking. A pretty little thing mouthing weakly at the tip of his cock whenever he deigns to give it to him.

McCree sobs when he feels his captor’s fingers invade his exhausted body; it’s an animal sound; raw and beautiful. Hanzo feels his cock flex at the thought of what it had to do to his commander.

Oh how he wished to be a fly on that particular wall - wherever Reyes had holed himself up, trying to figure out where Hanzo had squirreled away his boy.

Unfortunately for him, a dragon was very skilled at hoarding his treasure.

“You’re so open, still. A few weeks of good use and your body is gagging for cock. You did not have this in your old life, yes? Nobody to take care of your needs. Utilize you like your body craves.”

He is jeering, and he can see the dog’s hackles rise for just a moment before the fight seems to entirely go out of McCree. His voice is cracked, and weepy when he begs, “Please give me your cock? Please, I need your cock; need you to fuck me, need… need… p-p-puh-lease, master?”

He was barely intelligible, his blubbering only adding to the bit between his teeth - but Hanzo felt like the message had been clear enough. 

Oh - had it been clear enough.

“Good dogs do get a treat.”

He stares down between them as he starts pressing forward; feeding his cock inch by inch to the hungry, soft hole hugging him warm and tight the deeper he slips.

McCree is groaning mindlessly, weight hanging onto Hanzo’s fist as he starts sagging and not caring about the bit pulling painfully against the corners of his mouth.

It seems like he had finally broken this particular stallion in.

Hanzo fucks him slow and easy. There is no rush and no need for further needling - McCree, trapped in darkness, riles himself up better anyway.

He howls softly with every new gentle nudge inside, body sweating and shaking as he tries to anticipate whatever could come next.

When Hanzo lays his left hand on his right hip with a gentle pat, the dog nearly jumps out of his skin and needs to be - quite literally - reined back in.

He is drooling on the phone, Hanzo realizes dimly, however he is loathe to move and push it farther away. He just hopes it is still working.

—

Reyes is gnashing his teeth, cock angry and hard in his combat pants, fingers digging into the arm rest of his rickety armchair.

He would kill Shimada when he finally got his hands on him. He would kill him slow and painful; make him cry like a babe for his mamá.

But not before fucking his toy in front of his bloodied nose, and showing him how it was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	35. Ana/Junkrat; Reinhardt/Junkrat Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana tames herself another little pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Okay I've been thinking about the little comic where Ana shoots off the cookies and junkrat being so happy. So may just what about Ana spoiling the fuck out of junkrat till he becomes her new pet just like she did to Reinhardt. Like she teaches him to just stay still for a minute and gives him a cookie until it escalates to her petting him gently as he eats Reinhardt out as she coos out instructions."

Jamison was such a lovely - if very confused - young man. Ana did suspect that for the first few weeks he’d followed her around out of some misguided notion of grandmotherly love, however, she never quite had had the inclination to inquire further.

Having him sprawled across her lap, letting him nuzzle rudely between her breasts, that wide, loud mouth searching for a warm, brown nipple, might have worsened those misfiring thoughts in his head - but she couldn’t bring it over herself to shove him away.

He was a horribly crass and undisciplined punk that talked too loud and fast, and did most things out of sheer shock value - yet she couldn’t say that she disliked him. Quite the contrary.

Ana liked to watch and observe; like she enjoyed seeing Reinhardt laugh boisterously and clap Jesse so hard on the shoulder that he sagged sideways from a chair, just to turn on a dime the next second and become a sweet lap cat for her - gentle and careful when he brushed fingertips along her cheek just beneath her eye patch and press a prickly kiss against the side of her neck.

It was not hard to see the primal hunger for affection in Jamison - or his contrary animal fear of it; but that didn’t make it any easier to take.

How easy it was to shame him almost to tears with a harsh word, or to coax out a well of pathetic happiness when she brushed a hand across his dirty hair and pulled him against her chest; let him nuzzle and press close until it hurt.

“You can be a good boy,” she had told him once, sitting behind him, brushing a brown hand down his shivering, painfully thin back. “And I’m not saying ‘if you want to’. When you’re with me, you don’t need to think about how you need to be. I will think for you, precious boy.”

Her slippery fingers slip between his meager cheeks, fingertips slipping across the little, vulnerable hole she finds there. He makes a startled sound, jerking forwards and against the restraint of Reinhardt’s thigh - unyielding like warm, living rebar.

“Sshhhh,” she soothes, fingers circling and petting; never trying to dip in. His muscles are fluttering like a little bird’s wing. “You just need to let me mold you. I won’t hurt you. I will never hurt you. You can be such a good boy, and I can help you… Just stay calm for me. Ease. That’s all I’m asking.”

She coos when Junkrat calms down, the desperate clutch of his skinny arms around Reinhardt’s thigh relaxing into something that could be called an easy sprawl.

“Very good,” she sighs and leans down to kiss the knobs of his spine. “Good pets always get a treat.”

She watches Reinhardt’s big hand cup Jamison’s jaw and guiding him forward and between his legs.

Jamison doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t talk. He simply goes with the motion, body still taut but secretly trusting between them as he gets with the idea and pushes his face in close to the warm, dark space.

Reinhardt’s long sigh and deep rumble tell her that her boy’s tongue had started a warm, gentle lap.

“That’s it. That’s it. And when you’re done, I’ll have you service me,” she promises huskily as she drags her cunt against the firm line of his thigh just to let him feel her excitement.

Jamison shudders, then relaxes a bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	36. Soldier: 76/Reaper Humiliation Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier: 76 can't get enough of Reaper's rough treatments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "I think 76 would have a huge humiliation kink and that's part of the reason why he and reyes are so good together. The first time 76 came was from Reyes stepping on his cock with his steel toed shoes."

“Don’t look at me. Hands behind your head.” Reaper slowly rounds 76, a thrill of dark power coursing through him as the old soldier does as he is told; pressing his forehead against the dirty ground and putting his hands against the back of his neck.

“You’re pathetic. You come crawling to me just to vie for a fuck like a cat in heat. What makes you think I want some old, broken toy like you? Last time had been nothing but a pity fuck. You weren’t that good.”

He watches the long, scarred line of the soldier’s back; the tight globes of his ass. Between his sparsely haired thighs, his cock is fattening up in eagerness, even pressed against the cold, dirty concrete as it was.

Reaper slowly makes another half circle, boots thudding heavy against the ground, and watches with interest as the soldier’s cock swells a little more.

“You should apologize for being so pathetic. I feel sick just looking at you.” Out of sight, he let one hand slide between his own legs - gave the hard ridge of his cock a loving squeeze. His belly felt hot; as if it was filled with liquid metal.

76 shifts slightly, toes dragging against the floor, shoulders flexing gingerly without taking his hands from the back of his neck.

“I am sorry.”

Reaper nearly groans. he stands still and stares down at his prey.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For… being pathetic. For asking you to fuck me.”

“You weren’t asking.”

“For begging.” 76′s voice was wobbling and rough. Difficult to understand. When he swallowed thickly, a distinct scratch of someone near-tears added to the mix. “Please fuck me. I-I-I need it so bad. I tried to… - but I couldn’t come.”

“What did you try?” Reaper says - whispers, almost - reverently, gaze wandering from between the heavily scarred shoulder blades down, down, down…

“F-Fucking myself.” The soldier spits it out as if ripping off a band aid - doing it quick to lessen the pain. Reaper can feel his cock pulse in the tight confines of his pants. When he squats down, he can feel a bead of pre-cum seep into his underwear, mixing with the sweat of the skirmish they had before.

He clinically pries 76′s ass apart and stares at the wet, little muscle.

“Sí? Did fuck yourself on a toy, did you? While others were out on missions, trying not to get killed, the good little Soldier: 76 was in his bunk and fucking himself on a toy he squirrelled away. Useless slut.”

He listens to 76′s harsh, excited breathing, and doesn’t miss the jerk off his balls when he briefly touches one sharp metal claw to the shyly winking muscle.

He stands back up quickly, lest he give in and just mount the man right then and there; fuck into him just to feel the warm, needy clench of his body. Again, Reaper reaches between his thighs; rearranges his cock and indulges in a little squeezing just to take the edge off.

“Do they know you’re a cheap whore? That you’re fucking off to the enemy every chance you get, just so I can use you like a sloppy toy?” 

He kicks the soldier’s legs farther apart, noting his muted sound of pain when hard metal connects with his shins in the process. When he nudges against 76′s swollen cock, the man cries out softly and digs his forehead harder against the concrete. He is sweating bullets and his back is flushed in aroused shame.

“Yes,” Reaper muses, eyes on that little, winking muscle that the soldier must have abused earlier, “You’re a used up toy. Maybe I should try and whore you out. At least get a few bucks from strangers fucking an old man on the street behind some stinking dumpster…” His underwear feels tacky, clinking uncomfortably to his dick. He wants to loosen one of his belts that is digging against the swollen head but he doesn’t want 76 to notice how excited he has gotten by all of this.

There was a certain… ritual to their weekly meetings that Reaper was clinging to desperately.

He swallows thickly and nudges an unfriendly foot against the soldier’s swollen balls.

“Well? How is it? Would you put out for random drunk bastards if I told you so?”

76′s voice, when he answers, is nothing like his usual, harsh growling. It’s high and weepy. Almost childlike. 

“Yes.”

Reaper groans, head falling back briefly, chest heaving in harsh, excited breaths. He needs to get himself back under control before he can say with an obvious scratch in his voice, “Of course you would. Useless cum dumpster. Fuck, you are so pathetic. I can’t fuckin’ believe they picked you to be the face of Overwatch. Got a goddamn three dollar hooker as their so-called golden boy and left me standing in the fucking dust.”

He is barely registering what he’s saying; watching himself put his boot against the swollen, flushed cock pressed uncomfortably against the ground and grinds down against it with measured, careful pressure.

Jack is crying out; broken and pathetic, hands finally losing their spot on the back of his neck to scrabble helplessly against the dirty floor. He is whimpering and jerking without pulling away and Gabriel wants to… he wants to fucking… he wants to kick him until he’s black and blue, wants him to suffocate on his god damn cock, wants to choke him while fucking him until he’s passing out.

He wants to stare at Jack’s tired, sad face as he grunt fucks him right in front of the noses of his brainless little gang.

When Jack has stopped moving and is just breathing harsh, blowing up clouds of dust, Gabriel takes his boot away and watches the puddle of cooling cum on the floor.

“Th-th-thank you,” Jack finally jerks out. He sounds out of it; voice small and kind of far away.

Gabriel makes a sound of disgust and gets the thin blanket he put on the far away table, shakes it out and puts it over the body on the floor.

“Jackass,” he murmurs low, lingers and tells himself he is not waiting for a sign that Jack was coming back into his own head, and gets even more angry with himself when he admits that it was exactly that what he was doing before he makes a hasty retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	37. McCree/Hanzo Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is a werewolf. 'Nuff said.

Hanzo is contemplating the full moon when he hears the crunching of soft footsteps on the rooftop behind. The cadence of their steady fall is familiar - almost comforting.

McCree’s scent curls around his nose even before the man slowly sits down next to him, legs easily dangling above what would be a certain deadly drop. He always smells warm and of clean sweat, but on these nights, the scent is even deeper; a note of damp dog hair that Hanzo is helpless but to react to - nipples hardening and the hairs on his arms standing at attention.

He watches McCree out of the corner of his eyes. He seems calm. Happy. The wild scruff of his beard has crawled up a little higher on his gaunt cheeks; a hint of fang glints between his lips when he opens them and breathes in deep - scenting the air.

McCree suddenly tilts his head, sick yellow eyes throwing Hanzo a cheeky wink. The archer pretends like he isn’t flustered; like his perusal of the man next to him had been purely coincidental. He turns back to the moon and huffs.

McCree snickers - a deep, rumbling sound somewhere from the back of his throat - and leans in closer to press his nose right beneath Hanzo’s ear and sniff at him. Goosebumps prickles down his body and he pulls in a sharp breath.

The tip of McCree’s nose nudges against the point of Hanzo’s jaw.

“Have you finished your stargazing? Hunting you down has made me… hungry.”

Hanzo’s eyes flutter close, fingers curling tight into his loose hakama. When he feels the quick dip of McCree’s tongue cheekily taking a taste of his salty skin, he can’t help but groan softly.

McCree’s hand is on his; untangling his fingers and guiding his arm over - letting him feel the big, living bulge in his crotch. A knowing push of fingers lets him feel the tender swell at the base of the fat shaft even through the thick material of the jeans.

They both groan in tandem.

“Ah wanna breed,” McCree drawls right against the shell of Hanzo’s ear, and the archer is shamed to admit how the crude demand fans his shy need into an acute want.

He gingerly squeezes his fingers around the swell he can feel, and has trouble swallowing when he imagines how it’ll feel inside him. Heavy. warm. Filling him up and binding him to the spot without any hope of escape in the near future.

“Come,” he rasps. “Quick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	38. Soldier: 76/Reaper Humiliation Kink Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper makes good on his threats and gives Soldier: 76 over to some strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Oh but what about reaper going through with his threats and lending soldier 76 to others and by others I mean Roadhog. BUuuttttt then he gets so jealous at the pathetic whimpering and sobbing 76 is doing so after RH is done he just fucks into 76's filthy used up hole to show him who his real papi is"

“Come here. Let me see.” He grabs 76′s belt and drags him closer with an impatient snarl, sharp claws making short work of the fastenings of his pants. The soldier stiffens in protest for a second, then relaxes once more.

Reaper can hear him breathe harshly behind his mask. He grunts softly when Reaper pushes his hands into the back of his ruined pants, and still doesn’t protest the rough handling; only moans softly when broad, rude fingers nudge against his hole and test how well prepared he is. Reaper can feel him against his thigh; already hard as a diamond. He makes a sharp, little sound when Reaper pushes in two fingers without warning out of retaliation for the old asshole being so… so…

“Okay. Get your ass in there, slut,” he hisses, feeling agitated and on edge for no reason at all.

76 hesitates, stumbles a step back and looks around the parking lot like he’s seeing it for the first time, then starts turning towards the ruined warehouse.

“What. Are you so hungry for cock that you’re forgetting your manners?”

The soldier hesitates, then rasps, “Thanks, papi.”

Reaper shudders and watches him make his stumbling way inside, one hand holding his ruined pants up.

.o.

Gabriel had followed the progress of the junkers for some time; not because he had had them in mind for this little tete-a-tete, but just because he found them entertaining.

It had taken watching them work up close for his new obsession to form. They were rude and dirty and disgusting. Perfect for what he had in plan for the golden boy.

.o.

It was strangely less satisfying than Gabriel had anticipated; squatting on a rusty beam and watching the proceedings through a broken window; listening in to Jack’s little sounds of distress and slutty need that became progressively louder with the amount of cock he was forced to take.

From what he had observed, it hadn’t needed much convincing at all; Jack letting his ruined pants fall down to his knees and showing off his hard, bobbing cock with an air of almost pathetic hope to what clearly were absolute strangers.

Fawkes didn’t touch him, even; just lounged around and made a couple crass comments before his attention got pulled elsewhere. Rutledge, however… he seemed more than willing to get a taste.

Gabriel could hear the nasty, animal sound of their fucking; the wet squelching as the massive man pushed inside, large hands clamped around 76′s arms just above his elbows, pulling him back onto the meaty cock in a leisurely but relentless pace.

The soldier was taking his fucking wordlessly - but not passively. His booted feet had shuffled apart as wide as possible, ass hiked up into the grinding, deep thrusts. He was… eager.

Gabriel grit his teeth and refused to acknowledge the angry pounding of his erection; or the way Jack fucking sounded. His rough voice started to climb in register - became high and pathetically needy as he let himself get used, helpless in Roadhog’s huge arms.

Reaper could see the occasional drip of sticky fluid between 76′s thighs and it was making him unduly angry; to know that the huge man was probably pummeling right against the soldier’s prostate, trying to milk him dry.

Gabriel was horny and angry and he couldn’t fucking stop watching as Overwatch’s pet soldier got wrecked on a huge, dirty cock and begged for more with inarticulate, dumb babbling.

Fucked stupid in a dirty warehouse by a grunting hulk of a man while being watched by a giggling maniac. It should maybe be disgusting - but all Reaper could think about was that Jack was doing this in the first place because he had ordered him to.

.o.

“Dios, you’re a nasty slut, aren’t you?” Reaper grunts as he slams Jack over some crates and hectically fumbles with his fly. “I watched you, soldier. Couldn’t fucking keep your pants up for even a minute, could you? Just let them drop and let them see what a nasty whore you were. You had luck they obviously don’t have standards.”

Jack is clawing at the wood of the crate and probably driving splinters into his fingers. He doesn’t seem to care; he is whining and arching his back. Presenting. Showing off the dark, soft gape of his ruined hole and the warm, thick cum oozing out.

His cock hung heavy between his thighs. He hadn’t come himself - Rutledge had used him like the old toy he was and then thrown him onto the dirty ground.

Jack had whined and begged; hectically crawled around to lick at Rutledge’s sticky, softening cock, trying to get another rise out of him; get him to finish what he started… but the large man had simply stood like a rock, enjoying the desperate attention, and eventually pushed 76 away like he was nothing but a yapping dog.

They were gone now, the two insane assholes, and Reaper had swooped in with something he was loath to admit was eagerness.

He could feel it burn beneath his skin; making his blood boil.

“Had luck they were willing to take the next best cunt that offered itself to them,” he growled, his wet, warm breath making it hard to breathe behind his mask. Fuck, he wanted to take it off; bite at Jack’s throat until he could taste blood gushing onto his tongue.

But that was not how things worked.

76 made a sound like a wounded puppy; his eyes were glazed over, mouth wide open and panting. Reaper had no idea when he even lost his visor. He looked like he was in fucking heaven even though his cheeks were flushed a ruddy red in embarrassment.

“Were you gagging on their stink while he fucked you?” he breathed low, sinister as he pushed in; felt the soft spongy walls welcome him in, the slide in made pathetically easy by the creamy cum already deposited. “Did you love how unwashed they were? Did you like taking a nasty, dirty cock and licking it clean afterwards?”

Jack jerked against him. He was choking on his own excited breaths, eyes clamped shut tightly. Gabriel could see tears glistening in his lashes.

“Y-Yes. Yes. God, yes, I did,” Jack hiccuped through the short, sharp thrusts Reaper was starting in on. He grit his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in focus as he snapped his hips; getting Rutledge’s cum to froth around the rim.

“What do good boys say?” Reaper growled, voice deep and ethereal, black mist wafting out of the sides of his mask. He felt like he was starting to slip; like he was starting to actually go mad for Jack fucking Morrison.

“Th-Th-Th-” Jack’s teeth were chattering. He was trying to tighten up for Gabriel’s cock and failing miserably after the fat cock that had reamed him throughout the last half hour. He was openly weeping, arching his back and clawing at the wood with bloody fingers. “Thank you, p-p-papi.”

“Damn right. Damn fucking right, little nasty whore.”

He had to bite his lip to stop babbling, fingertips digging into Morrison’s hips, eyes feeling like they were about to spring out of his head so he wouldn’t say anything strange. Anything irresponsible. Anything about how proud he was of his boy and how papi had loved and hated seeing him getting dicked down by another man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	39. McCree/Hanzo Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo takes care of werewolf!McCree after a session.

McCree was still whimpering when his cock stopped jerking and Hanzo carefully loosened the tight grip he’d had around his knot and the warm cloth he’d wrapped around it. His insides were feverishly hot, clenching and suckling on Hanzo’s fingers with sated, almost dreamlike slowness. 

Hanzo gently kept fucking him on the four digits; rocking in and petting his tender, swollen knot at the same time while carefully watching the scruffy face and the sulfuric glow beneath heavy eyelids.

“Okay?” Hanzo asked, voice pitched low, hand switching from the oversensitive cock to McCree’s hairy thigh to rub against the strong, twitching muscles there.

McCree whined high and canine, body shivering once, then trying to squirm away from the gently rocking fingers. Hanzo hummed tunelessly and pulled out slow and careful, fingertips rubbing against the loose, relaxed muscle in farewell as he stood up from the bed and walked around to look at the man.

McCree looked serene in a way he never did outside of their little games. His mouth was bloody, one tip of a fang still peeking out from beneath his upper lip. When Hanzo started loosening the thick leather straps from around his wrists, he whined once more; pitiful and near-scared.

“Hush,” the archer murmured, helping him pull his arms down and draping them across the man’s hirsute belly, because McCree didn’t have the coordination to do so - and because Hanzo enjoyed caring for him when he was disoriented and out of it; seeking blindly for warmth and reassurance.

McCree never was more animal than when he let Hanzo take him apart; openly begging for affection.

Hanzo rubbed fingertips through the wild tangle of his unkempt beard, sitting down on the side of the mattress.

“For just a moment,” he warned with a voice pitched low, eying the drying mess on McCree’s abdomen. “I will need to wash you.”

McCree turned around, blindly nuzzling his face into Hanzo’s hip before placing a gentle, affectionate bite there. Hanzo sighed softly and petted his unwashed hair with rare tenderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	40. Genji/Hanzo Virginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji lets Hanzo try on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a pic by ch4tte on Tumblr.

“G-Genji!”

Hanzo sounds so horrified, and when Genji peeks over his shoulder, he’s sitting there frozen in shocked indecision. Like he still can’t believe his little brother was lewd enough to let him watch his fingers slip around and into the flushed little slit of his opening.

His hands, Genji notices, are clamped around his cock, as if trying to shield it from view - or maybe he just needs to hold on to something for comfort while he shamefully stared at his little brother’s ass; the way it opened up around his experienced fingers; the round, soft sack of his balls swaying just beneath.

Because he hadn’t… stopped watching, that is. Hanzo liked sounding scandalized and horrified with Genji’s every action. He liked being indignant, because being contrary to Genji meant being the older brother. The more responsible one. At least in Hanzo’s mind.

It didn’t make him look away from his brother’s lewd display, however; and it didn’t make him stand up and leave the room, telling Genji he would not play along with his quick, little idea.

The thing was, that Hanzo obviously was intrigued. He leave because he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and watch and see how depraved his little brother could get.

“I think I’m ready,” Genji pants. His head feels hot and his sight is swimming in and out of focus. They both groan when he pulls out his fingers and they hear the resulting wet pop. Hanzo looks mortified and turned on from the wet, little sounds - the soft gape of his brother’s hole - and Genji can see how he’s practically strangling his cock. The poor tip is already flushed dark.

“C’mon. Now or never.” Genji wriggles his ass; tries to make his hole wink for Hanzo. He’s not sure Hanzo would even see it. He was staring at him but had a slightly glazed expression in his eyes that seemed to be far away.

“Onii-chan,” Genji wheedles. He goes down onto his elbows and arches his back down. He can feel the cool air of the room against his wet hole and it is as exciting as it is uncomfortable. He is shivering and needy and even though he tries to not let it show, it is embarrassing to have his older brother stare like that.

He kind of wants to reach back again; at least curl his fingers around the soft swell of his balls and shield them from Hanzo’s scrutinizing, intense gaze.

Genji wonders what it would take to finally get Hanzo to do it - whether there even was something that would succeed - when suddenly there is movement behind him and a moment later he nearly gets pushed flat onto his face by his brother’s body draping across his back.

Genji wants to laugh and jeer in excitement - he doesn’t say anything. Hanzo’s cock has found his hole with sheer dumb luck, the very tip slotting against the wet gape of his slit.

Hanzo - apparently shocked by just the small contact - involuntarily jerks his hips forward, sliding in a couple centimeters that spread his little brother around the flared tip of his cock.

Genji can’t breathe. Hanzo is panting above him like a little, scared bird.

“I-It’s okay,” Genji stutters breathlessly. His ears are ringing. He thinks he needs to soothe Hanzo and calm him down and - Hanzo is jerking again. Fucking forward into his brother, his balls touching Genji’s. He’s in to the hilt and Genji can feel the gentle burn of the stretch warm him down to his toes and up into his belly.

Hanzo is hunched over him, forehead pressed against the nape of his neck; a high, almost scared whimpering sliding from his throat.

Genji involuntarily thinks about the ‘official’ Hanzo. The one that sat pretty and unreachable to his father’s left side, surveying the table with aloof intelligence.

It was hard to reconcile him with the creature rutting into him with little, harsh jerks of his hunched hips. Genji loved to know that he was the only one that ever saw his brother like this.

Hot headed. Clumsy. Drowning in his own body’s need.

“G-Genji,” Hanzo stuttered. Genji could feel his arm curling around his hip, hand curling against his chest and holding on for dear life. For comfort.

Genji struggled back onto his hands, pushing up his brother’s weight lying heavy across his back.

Hanzo’s cock was a big, warm presence inside his belly; rutting rabbit quick and setting his nerve endings on fire.

“Brother!” Genji whined, elbows shaking and belly tightening with fire.

Hanzo was fucking like the devil was behind them. His face, mashed into the nape of Genji’s neck out of embarrassment, felt almost unbearably hot.

Genji wondered excitedly if he would hold on long enough to make Genji come as well - or whether he could make Hanzo suck his balls afterwards while he jerked off onto his face.

He was sure he would be able to talk his big brother into it. Hanzo always pretended like he hated Genji’s ideas - but in the end he went along with them every single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	41. McCree/Reaper Wrecked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young McCree getting wrecked by Reyes' thighs and ass.

Reyes slams McCree to the wall, arm at his throat and pressing in until the kid is flushed and gasping for air.

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you, pendejo?”

McCree’s face crunches up, hands clawing at Reyes’ arm. He’s flushed and his eyes a little too glassy - probably has had too much punch already.

“C’mon, pardner,” he whines, “it’s the goddamn Christmas party. I thought I had a wish or somethin’?”

A death wish more like; Reyes narrows his eyes at the new one - freshly off the hook. Having dodged jail by the skin of his teeth seems to have given him an extra boost of confidence - it was the only explanation Gabriel had to this ingrate slapping his ass at the buffet table and telling him in a slur and with an infuriatingly charming grin: “My wish is ta get buried between those cheeks, commander.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Reyes tells him low; almost gentle with a kind of regret that makes McCree blink stupidly at him. He was a pretty enough kid - only had shit for brains, it seems.

It only takes a second to have him on the ground, groaning and rubbing the back of his head - and then crying out in confused alarm when the world goes dark as his commander takes a seat right on his face, rubbing his taint and balls against the bridge of his nose.

“Get to work,” Reyes growls, thighs clamping down around McCree’s ears until the kid is whining into his ass crack and desperately clawing at his back.

“Get to work, damn you!” Reyes hisses, grinding down and dragging his hole across a protesting, babbling mouth. He reaches down and pinches McCree’s nose shut until the kid finally gets with the program and starts licking out of sheer animal desperation.

A few seconds later he is moaning like a whore, clawing fingers loosening until he can hold big, comfortable hand fulls of his commander’s ass.

Reyes sighs and closes his eyes, hips gently rocking on top of McCree’s face. The kid was a sloppy eater and got tired too fast - but he’d train that out of him soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	42. Soldier: 76/Reaper/Reinhardt Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper and Soldier: 76 fight for Reinhardt's affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Jack and Gabriel trying to nurse on Reinhardt's dick while he's trying to sleep, and they make a competition of it; Whomever can get Reinhardt to cum, gets to sleep in the same bed as him. And everyone knows Reinhardt is a sweetie, and likes to cuddle and spoon whomever is in his bed, cause he's a big ol' softie. And, doesn't mind Jack and Gabriel's affections, because it gets them to be 'friendly' with each other. Even if in competition.
> 
> Jack is all soft kisses and loving it, maybe a little more than he should. Gabriel is all sloppy makeout sessions and drooling licks, especially when he tries to take Reinhardt’s tip into his mouth, and deepthroat him, which would of course stop Jack from doing anything more. But, along the way, his throat tightens and constricts, making him damn near choke himself, and he has to come up for air, and mutter a few curses. But, Reinhardt shushes him, and drags a meaty hand across his head with a- 
> 
> with a smile. Nobody really wins, except Gabriel, in a way. Reinhardt just pulls him up into his thick arms, hugs him with a cheery laugh, and drags him in to bed. Jack might be a little mad, but Gabriel seems a bit happy, even if he shows it as a pouting, aggressive sort of ‘stop hugging me so damn hard!’ way."

Reinhardt groans, one arm thrown across his eyes. He is bone tired and his boys are not letting him rest.

He can feel them, sitting warm and heavy on either side of his hips, arguing with barely muted voices over the treat they both want for themselves.

There are lips at his cock and wet, eager tongues lapping at him - and there’s no way he could sleep when his toes are tingling and Jack and Gabriel are practically crawling on top of his body, trying to push the other to the side.

Reinhardt can hear the wet, suckling sounds of their lips meeting at the swollen head of his dick, biting impatient kisses into each other’s mouth. He lets them play - until he feels the edge of sharp teeth lightly scratching his skin, at which point his arm shoots down and he curls thick fingers into short hair and pulls the perpetrator away.

“Careful now,” he rumbles and peeks down just in time to see Gabriel’s shit eating grin as he uses his chance to curl a long, serpentine tongue around Reinhardt’s cock before popping the broad head in.

Jack looks petulant and unhappy where he’s held at bay by Reinhardt’s hand.

“He pushed me,” he mumbles, contrite and ashamed, and Reinhardt lets him go with a gentle pat to his cheek. Jack proceeds to lie his head onto one of Reinhardt’s massive thighs, lapping with a soft, warm tongue at the deeply furrowed scar on his right hip. He is eyeing Gabriel’s shameless sucking with envy.

Gabriel, for his part, takes it too far too fast - just as usual. His body becomes unfocused in his eagerness, hands morphing into claws that scratch just this side of painful against Reinhardt’s belly as he tries to fuck his throat onto the gratifyingly thick cock and promptly chokes on it.

Reinhardt watches Gabriel’s nostrils flare, tears shooting to his eyes as he first tries to push through it with fierce determination but soon has to relent, coughing and spluttering as he off.

Jack snorts and mumbles something Reinhardt can’t quite catch, and Gabriel looks miserable even though he tries not to show it, cheek rubbing against the wet head of Reinhardt’s dick, eyes wet from the choking.

“Ahh… C’mere,” Reinhardt sighs, urging him up with coaxing fingers beneath his chin as he feels Jack settle triumphantly between his thighs and nuzzling affectionately against the treat that was all his now.

“Ridiculous boys…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	43. Lúcio/Junkrat Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is sick and Lúcio wants to make him feel better.

“Boy, that sucks,” Lùcio commiserates as he carefully lowers himself next to Junkrat on the couch. Junkrat, for his part, doesn’t react for a few seconds, then seems to register that he is spoken to and squints at Lùcio warily.

“What does?”

Lùcio frowns and points at him, “That you’re sick, my dude. Sucks.”

Junkrat purses his lips, eyes still squinting. He’s as leery of Lùcio’s sympathy as a deer with one leg in a trap. His quiet contemplation is almost… creepy.

“If I can do anything for you… just say the word, right?” Lùcio prompts, knees bouncing nervously. He’s never spoken a lot to Junkrat - there wasn’t much to say, usually. The guy didn’t seem to listen half the time anyway, preferring to giggle about one thing or another which was equally unnerving as his quiet solitude right now.

“Roadie checks in on me.”

“Oh. Right.”

That seems to be it for a few minutes - only disrupted by Junkrat’s coughs that rattled his thin chest. His head was sagging forward as Lùcio watched - eyes getting heavy beneath the bushy eyebrows.

He looks utterly exhausted and unwilling to give in to his body’s needs. Instead, he jerks out of it whenever he is on the precipice, throws Lùcio an almost irritated gaze and just keeps sitting curled up.

After a while, Lùcio unclips his booster from his belt and fiddles with the controls. It doesn’t take long until he puts it face down on the low table, soft waves of the usual healing rhythm thumping against the wood.

He sees Junkrat staring at the booster, and when he doesn’t say anything, Lùcio offers, “Maybe it’ll help. Y’know. Can’t hurt, right?”

Another ten minutes pass by with the music soft and relaxing - and then Junkrat shifts, crawling closer and putting his head with an exhausted sigh against Lùcio’s shoulder.

He doesn’t say a word of thanks, but Lùcio feels on top of the world anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	44. Lúcio/McCree Eagerness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio is so inexperienced and so eager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Also imagine Lucio so. Determined. To deepthroat even the biggest dicks, even if he just touched the first dick that wasn't his own a week ago. Reaper and Jesse have to work so damn hard to help him take it more slow. Maybe divert his attention to like Hanzo or someone else with a smaller dick to start out with."
> 
> Note: We've been talking on my Tumblr about McCree discovering Lúcio is a virgin and being totally smitten with the idea of deflowering him. He boasts to Reyes about it and the both set out on teaching Lúcio who's very fucking eager.

“C-c’mon, sweetheart. Not…you’re too fast, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

McCree is sweating bullets and his spurs jingle as he moves his feet restlessly; scuffs his boots against the wall because Lùcio might not be the best at sucking cock yet, but he was definitely enthusiastic about it.

McCree choked on a groan when the kid pushed forward yet again, only to choke the second the sticky head lightly touches his uvula. Jesse can’t get those soft, wet sounds out of his head. He’s hearing them at night, when he’s half asleep and rubbing an idle hand against his dick. 

“Sh… shoot,” he hisses, one hand against Lùcio’s forehead, pushing the kid away. There’s a thick string of saliva connecting the head of his dick to Lùcio’s tongue and the sight makes him honest-to-goodness whimper. The kid is going to be the death of him.

“Easy now,” he drawls, thumb and forefinger circling the base of his cock. Lùcio is grinning and rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. He is flushed dark but doesn’t look self-conscious. Just eager.

Always so fucking eager.

Jesse needs to catch a breath and just rubs the tip against Lùcio’s soft goatee. At least he was sitting back on his haunches and let him rest for a while; big brown eyes looking up, patiently letting McCree smear his dick all over his face and looking like he loved every second of it.

Fuck, but the little whore was in love with dick.

“You need to calm down a little, sweetheart,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing across Lùcio’s bottom lip. “I ain’t gonna run away. Not when you’re makin’ love to my cock so sweet.”

Lùcio grins, eyes scrunching up in the motion. He was bouncing a little on his knees and McCree could feel his own start aching just from watching. God, but he was getting old.

“Take your time, alright? Don’t wanna hurt yourself, now…” And, when he carefully let Lùcio forward to mouth at the very tip, mumbled into his scruffy beard, “Reyes ‘s gonna kill me if ya hurt yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	45. Zarya/Hanzo Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy has a habit of badtouching her patients. Zarya likes helping her every now and then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Had a thought about Mercy getting zarya to hold hanzo down and fucking him with a strap on while mercy is in the corner giggling and embarrassed even tho she set everything up. Eventually she gets brave enough to hop on his chest and rub herself against his tiddy"

“This is not the best you can do. I refuse to believe it.”

Zarya’s hands are on Hanzo’s shoulders, biceps bulging as she presses him down more firmly; slamming him into the examination table when he manages to push up a few centimeters.

Hanzo’s face is sweaty, inky hair sticking to his cheeks as he looks up at his opponent with glistening eyes. His teeth are bared in a growl, body trying to utilize the missing of his prosthetics to twist away from the woman like an eel.

Zarya laughs in his face - not unfriendly, just happy. Sweat is rolling down her temples; the only sign that this is even taxing her.

They both can hear the breathless, excited giggling in the corner and ignore it.

“This is your best, is it not?” The big woman purrs, a smug grin on her face. Hanzo stops clawing at her arms in favor of just lying there and staring up. He is panting, chest heaving and the long muscles in his muscular thighs trembling. He’s been fighting against Zarya’s hold for a while now, and his earlier angry shouting and threats had given way to breathless panting and then almost begrudging respect.

Mercy took a step closer, hands pressed against her mouth, trying to stifle her giggle. Her face was feeling like it was burning up. She couldn’t believe that her little ploy had actually worked. She couldn’t believe that they were tussling in front of her like bobcats; muscular and compact, limbs straining and bodies heaving as they clashed.

“Ridiculous, little man,” Zarya coos, and Mercy watches - breathless - as one big hand slides from Hanzo’s shoulder down to his chest; covering his pec and giving it a good, nice squeeze that quickly devolves into a rude, self-satisfied tugging of his nipple.

The archer strains and groans, mouth falling open just as easily as his thighs do from their desperate clamp around Zarya’s sturdy hips.

He’s capitulating, Mercy realizes with an excited, disbelieving buzz in the back of her head. He’s capitulating and Zarya is taking her spoils; sampling them with relish.

“You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t have won had I had my… my legs,” Hanzo grits out, still gasping for air - and not fighting against Zarya any longer. Her hand stops toying with his nipple in favor of giving the tail of his dragon one last, gentle pet before sliding down… down… 

And suddenly Mercy becomes aware of just how excited Hanzo has gotten. She presses her hands across her hot face, shielding her eyes with childlike embarrassment - the sight of his cock standing proud and gently flexing having jolted her to the core.

She squirms where she stands - can feel the slick slide of her labia as she gets her panties sticky with her excitement.

“Ah… I think… yes. Be a good boy, archer. Get them wet for me, will you?”

Her fingers part and she peeks out, staring at the sight of Hanzo eagerly sucking in two thick fingers, eyes closed and cheeks flushed a dark red. Mercy can… god, she can see his tongue eagerly dipping out between the digits - getting them liberally wet for the woman still holding him down with one arm, tattoos bulging with the flex of her muscles.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Zarya purrs when she pulls her hand away, the tips of her fingers connected to Hanzo’s lower lip for just a second longer before the string of saliva breaks.

Mercy feels like she is about to combust in her scrubs when she watches Zarya ignore Hanzo’s cock in favor of sliding lower.

God… god… she’d never thought… she’d never imagined…

She watched, breathlessly, as Hanzo’s thighs started quivering, the short stumps beneath his knees restlessly moving and giving her a play-by-play of when exactly he got breached.

“Not weak here, are you? Gripping me so tight… you train these muscles often, archer?” 

There’s a sly grin on Zarya’s face that Mercy wants to lick off. She can’t bring herself to move even an inch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	46. McCree/Hanzo Spreader Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and a spreader bar. 'Nuff said.

Hanzo’s head hangs low between his arms, sweat and tears of hopeless overstimulation dripping off the tip of his nose. Jesse tilts his head, watching the exhausted shivering of muscles, and slides his hand big and warm along the slope of the archer’s back.

“One more?” he murmurs right against the shell of Hanzo’s ear, fingers sliding into the slick crack of his ass. He rounds the twitching, little muscle, feeling how hot it is to the touch, then dips two fingers easily inside.

Hanzo groans, knees shifting restlessly against the ground. There’s a dull clinking when he involuntarily tests the range of his restriction. The bar has no give to it, forcing his thighs apart - and him to present his ass to McCree’s gentle fingering.

“One more, babydoll?” McCree drawls, fingers sliding in deeper; the rough pads dragging against Hanzo’s hot, silky insides. “I bet you can give me one more…”

Hanzo makes a choked, inelegant noise and helplessly bites the edge of the mattress right in front of him, eyes wide and helpless; knees shuffling and coming up against the unrelenting bar spreading them apart again and again.

He sobs, eyes clenching shut and hips hunching down when Jesse presses against his prostate - and then jerks when he does it again; abs clenching and body protesting against the overwhelming sensations cresting in him.

“You’ll be so exhausted… when Jack comes, he’ll be able to slide right in and use you. Don’t need to worry about a thing. Just let him mount you right where you are - your little friend’ll make sure you’ll be nice and open for it.”

His metal hand taps idly against the bar between Hanzo’s knees, making it clang softly. Hanzo’s shoulders shake, cock eagerly spitting out a little more cum.

He loved feeling helpless and not having a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	47. McCree/Hanzo Camshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree and Hanzo have a regular kinky Camshow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> misterstereodream said: "DAMN MAN I just saw the exhibition post and what if.. What if beloved slutty Hanzo gets deep dicked so damn good on livestream he starts babbling in Japanese and broken English- fucked through multiple orgasms, covered in sweat and cum and bite marks and so hypersensitive he can't help but whine and howl- and the viewers EAT IT UP. Look at all that cash, Hanzo gonna make it rain, but... When he can stand up again, bless his heart"

*Slut76* Can you blindfold him with that scarf?

*DeathInSpanish* what no fuck you I wanna see his eyes when he gets deep dicked

*Bunnies4evar* hey can you show me your belly again???!!!

Jesse laughs at the laptop in front of him then looks up and wiggles his fingers at the camera. He makes his way over, unabashedly showing off his hairy gut first from the front and then the side, hands coming up to grab the chubby sides and wriggle it playfully.

In the back, his partner can be seen sitting and slowly taking off the yellow ribbon from his hair. He would look aloof without the eager flush of excitement on his high cheekbones - or his sleek cock curving up towards his tight belly from between the easy spread of his thighs.

He glances over towards the camera - the antics of McCree as he starts carding broad-tipped fingers through the hair on his belly - and then looks back away again as his cock jerks and starts getting wet at the tip.

He seems as embarrassed by his own lewdness as he was eager to show off. His knees shift apart farther; hand travelling down to cup his balls and lift them a little as if showing them off for their invisible viewers.

McCree glances over at the movement in the corner of his eyes, face breaking out into a huge grin as he sees Hanzo fondling himself.

“Awww sweetheart,” he croons and ambles over, muscles in his back and ass shifting as he walks away from the camera and crawls onto the bed. “Such an eager slut,” he purrs and gives Hanzo the kiss he was wordlessly asking for, head tilted and lips wet in invitation.

He spends a couple minutes sampling what was on offer, tongue dipping in and big metal hand closing carefully around Hanzo’s cock; letting him feel skin warmed, smooth metal until the archer is bucking up; shamelessly fucking into the tight tunnel and groaning into his mouth.

When Jesse crawls back towards the laptop, he is flushed and breathless and grinning like a loon.

The chat on screen is buzzing with messages.

*DeathInSpanish* you look like a dipshit rn

*AnubisBlack* that kissing looked really good can we have more of that?

*Slut76* can you jerk off for us? Love your fat cock

*Bunnies4evar* THANKS FOR TEH BELLEEEEYYYYY >:3

There was more going on, but as entertaining as it was reading their viewer’s messages, he was more than ready to get things going; especially with how out of breath Hanzo already sounded behind him; punctuated with little strained whimpers that could only mean that he was fondling his tits; cupping them and squeezing those tasty, puffy nipples, getting them nice and hard…

*DeathInSpanish* fuck his tits again like last time. Enjoyed that a lot

*AnubisBlack* yes that was delightful. Can you give me the link again for the lingerie site? I want to purchase you guys a few things to wear next time.

Jesse laughs and throws Hanzo a sly look over his shoulder. Hanzo bites his lip in response and pinches his nipple a little mean. He never reads the chat - he likes that only Jesse knows what they want them to get up to; or tells him how they call him out for being a greedy slut.

After the stream he types slow and one handed - the other one is curled around his cock, thumb playing with his foreskin; giving glimpses of the wet, flushed head because he knows Slut76 likes the sight of him playing with his cock. I got something real nice planned today.

*DeathInSpanish* gonna make him scream?

McCree grins sharply. It looks wild in midst of the unkempt tangle of his beard.

_At first…_

.o.

He’s had Hanzo on his side, spooning him from behind and holding his leg up nice and high so the viewers could see as much as possible. He’s had an eye on the laptop, glancing over Hanzo’s shoulder and blearily watching the chat go nuts without being able to read any of it.

“They can see your cock bounce when I fuck you like that,” Jesse had rasped into Hanzo’s ear, spitting out thick black hair that liked to stick to his sweaty face. “Wanna give them a show? Show them how you like to touch yourself…”

He’s fucked him on his back, Hanzo’s legs hooked over one arm so he could slip his cock between the silky space between his thighs and let it rub against Hanzo’s cum-sticky dick, getting him nice and hard again while Hanzo whined unabashedly, shame and inhibitions having left him after he’s come the first time, shuddering and jerking, cock flexing out cum in full view of the camera.

And he’s fucked him on all fours, shoulders itching with sweat and lungs burning from the exertion as Hanzo clawed at the bedding and lifted his ass up into it. Had he had worn his prosthetics, McCree was sure he’d be standing on his tip toes in eagerness, howling into the bedding he mashed his face into whenever the swollen head of Jesse’s cock pressed intimately up to his ripe little prostate.

Fuck, but Jesse wanted to come and fill him up; ram in deep and grind his hips in as he shot, filling Hanzo’s belly with fire and getting him to jerk like a rabbit in his eagerness to fuck himself just a little more on the dick as long as it was hard enough….

His fucking cock just felt stuffed. Feverish like a wound; having Hanzo come again and again, crying out in abandon when he was allowed to shoot another load, getting progressively more watery but also more desperate, was satisfying, yes, but also torture in and off itself. He just wanted to nut off so badly.

He glanced to the side, blinking the sweat out of his eyes and catching a line out of the many.

*DeathInSpanish* cant fucking hear him anymore with how he’s mashing his face into the ground

Jesse grunts and reaches out - gets a haphazard hand full of Hanzo’s dark hair and forces his head up none too gently. Hanzo sob at the sting, cock jerking where it’s hanging between his thighs. The muscles in his arms start protesting as the pain from his scalp gets interpreted as lust without any form of pit stop in between.

“They can’t hear you, babycakes,” he grits out between clenched teeth, “They wanna hear how much you enjoy slutting around. How you enjoy getting your ass in the air like that.”

Jesse holds on, gritting his teeth and staring at the sweat glistening between Hanzo’s shoulder blades as he snaps his hips harder; fucks him almost brutally harsh because he knows Hanzo will come like a freight train as soon as he puts his big plan into motion and he wants to come with him; just shove deep into the silky clench of his body and unload in warm, throbbing pulses.

When he feels the orgasm start brewing in his gut - a hot pull through his lower belly that made his toes tingle and his sight get a little fuzzy - he finally grabs for Hanzo’s discarded scarf. It is long and sturdy - easy to sling around the archer’s thick neck and pull it taut with fists around each end.

Hanzo gurgles at the sudden restriction, back arching downward, fingers clawing at the bed. Jesse pulls him back onto his cock via the broad piece of fabric choking him, and feels his body get a little hotter still around his cock, soft walls squeezing down as Hanzo shivers and jerks, hands firmly in the bedding.

McCree tries not to make a sound, swallowing his gulping breaths down so the camera had a chance to pick up on Hanzo’s desperate struggle for air; his wheezing dwindling down with Jesse slowly, cruelly curling the ends of his scarf around his fists to take more and more air- until he is not making any sound anymore; a last gurgle everything he can do, face slack, arms shaking, body jerking as he comes one last time; nearly dry by now.

.o.

*AnubisBlack* dont forget to give me the link please

*Slut76* surprise choking. That was really nice. Thanks, sir

*Bunnies4evar* omg your O-faces are so good. Love them!!! You think I could have a private session this week??? Got a few ideas for you!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	48. Soldier: 76/Reaper Trans Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper is always teasing poor Soldier: 76.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Trans Jack anon here: Gabe likes teasing Jack with multiple toys, asking if any are better then him. Jacks a mess, and just whimpering and begging for gabe to fuck him cause no none of the toys are as good as Gabes dick, please just fuck him till he can't walk straight. (Bonus: Daddy kink if ur into that.)"

Jack’s neck seems to swell with the strain of his low, grating moans; it flushes, veins popping out and Adam’s apple working as Gabriel slowly pushes in ridge after ridge of the new toy he got his friend.

“Like that?” he purrs, readjusting Jack’s leg on his shoulder. With Jack on his side like this, it is easy to get at his cunt; it’s flushed and puffy from the attention already, that plump little cock looking obscenely swollen from Gabriel’s fleeting attention - fingertips thrumming across, then leaving as quick as they had appeared.

“Yes,” Jack is whimpering, hands clawing at the bedding, his own thigh, his hair - anywhere so he wouldn’t let them slide between his legs to frantically jerk off. Gabriel can be very creative with his disciplinary actions if he wants to.

“More than me, cariño mio?”

Jack grinds his teeth, fighting against answering the insidious question again - but Gabriel pushes in a little more; threatens Jack’s poor opening to have to stretch across an even bigger ridge.

Jack breaks quite easily.

“N-No, daddy! Nonono. I llll… lllove your cock so much. Please? Please fuck me?”

Gabriel laughs at him and lets him beg a little more before he starts pulling the toy away, demeanor suddenly changed as he coos at him, big hands rubbing across his shivery hips and clenching abs.

“Shush, baby boy. Yeah… daddy’s gonna give you his cock. You’re gonna cry for me again? Yeah… that’s it… perfect little boy for papi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	49. Lúcio/McCree Eagerness Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How *did* Lúcio end up between McCree's knees?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carbonoid said: "Cyber, how did babyslut virgin!Lúcio end up with his face between Jesse's legs in the first place anyway :3? Also Gabe and Jesse would just adore how nice Lúcio's big soft lips feel anywhere them."

I tell you how it came to it:

McCree basically is a big, easygoing slut. The base knows it. His family knows it. We know it.

He has a big dick and goes commando whenever he can fucking get away with it (and sometimes where he can’t) and loves to feel it swing between his legs and the little glances his teammates sneak him.

He loves jerking it with his door not closed, too.

It’s probably a problem but he kind of hadn’t thought something would ever come off it, y’know? People don’t barge into his small cluttered rooms too often anyway.

So of course Lúcio sticks his head in when Jesse is good and ready to shoot his load, shirt shoved up haphazard, leaving his belly naked because he’s too lazy to do laundry if he gets anything dirty.

And Jesse never actually catches what the kid wanted to tell him (it was asking him whether he wanted some ice cream - bless his lil soul) because he never asked to begin with. Just sat there at his desk with his big, meaty cock in fist and blinked owlishly up at Lúcio who, in turn, just stared.

And maybe you could say that Jesse McCree is a little flattered when Lúcio whispers “Wow” with this absolute awe in his voice as he slips into the room and pushes the door close behind him.

“You like it, partner? Wanna watch up close?” Jesse grins, dragging his hand down to expose the wet head to the cool air of the room and Lúcio’s excited brown eyes.

Lúcio might be a virgin but he was definitely not shy. All enthusiastic smiles and cute dimples as he comes closer and snuggles down on his knees between McCree’s thighs.

It’s basically how McCree ends up taking the pictures of Lúcio carefully, clumsily mouthing at the fat head, pretty pink tongue lapping at the salty fluid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	50. Hanzo/Guards Secretly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo likes getting his kink on with the castle guards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hon-art said: "I LIVE for hanzo getting gangbanged by shimada castle guards, its all i want T___T"

Hanzo can just about close his eye before the cock in his left hand starts to spurt, one of the guards holding his head steady with a harsh grip in his hair as the warm, sticky mess starts to splash against him.

His tongue is lolling out, chest heaving in sharp drags of breath, utilizing that he doesn’t have a cock blocking his airway for a few seconds - until the next dick nudges his smeared cheek, rudely rubbing against him until he finally turns his head and licks it into his mouth.

He hears the faint swish of the sliding door and then a sharp curse.

“Again?? How much have I missed?”

“Master has been begging for it again. Ah… maybe an hour?”

“Shit. Stand aside. I’ve been thinking about nothing but pussy since I started my shift.”

Hanzo gurgles around the cock in his mouth, blindly groping for another one with his hand - but instead the guard between his legs slides out and another one takes his place; cock dry and still sliding in without a hitch, aided by the sticky, creamy mess already left.

“Need to ask for a raise,” someone murmurs, “keeping him satisfied is a full time job.”

Hanzo’s young, sleek cock is standing at attention, flushed pink and ready to burst in excitement. The tears from the beginning have long since dried up. He always was so weepy when he got the first cocks; not getting fucked for a couple days made him a mess.

“Is Nozaki’s shift done? Get him in here. I need a breather…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	51. Genji/McCree Baja Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree samples Genji's robo puss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "AU where genji has massive baja blast pussy lips and once Mccree let him sit on his face, and after genji orgasms and gets up it drools all over mccree's face, staining his beard green with the thick juice..."

“Genji… Genji - wait.” 

McCree wondered what he was doing, keeping Genji from mounting him and rutting him into oblivion. The cyborg was lithe and catlike above him, faceplate up and steam hissing from various joints; panting wet and warm against McCree’s throat.

“What?” His voice sounded strange when it wasn’t enhanced from within the suit; hoarse and scratchy; totally at odds with the bright, alert eyes looking up at Jesse.

He swallows - then swallows again because his throat is parched and he is sweating bullets. Genji’s body was like a furnace above him, pressing down and keeping him pinned. All warm, smooth metal with bright neon green lights.

“I don’t … uh… how we gon’ do this, partner?” He is staring at Genji’s mouth like it is everything. It kinda.. was everything. The only soft, wet part on his body. The only human part. Jesse had been fantasizing about it more often than he likes to admit.

Genji blinks at him, the feverish haze clearing a little from his damn pretty eyes. McCree could kick himself.

“What?”

“I mean, do y’ wanna…”

He can’t finish his bumbling thoughts before Genji snorts. Grins. It looks wicked - eyes sly as he scratches Jesse beneath his chin like he’s a well behaved dog. He is only mildly embarrassed that it works - sending eager shivers down his back.

“Don’t worry about that. Look.”

And he does look - eyes drawn down to the junction of the cyborg’s thighs by soft, smooth whirring coming from within the synthetic body.

He stares, mouth falling open, as the protective plate covering Genji’s crotch suddenly slides to the side, retreating into discreetly opening panels that quickly close up again. It leaves Genji with a smooth, pretty pubic mound that has three neon green arrows - like the worlds most flashy pubic hair - pointing down towards…

McCree had to blink and tilt his head; needed to focus in the dark to make out velvety looking ink black labia. He let out a long breath like a wheeze, eyes going almost painfully large as he reaches out, hesitates, then touches. The material felt soft and squishy beneath his careful fingertips. Genji softly moaned above him, hips tilting forward in invitation.

McCree took it gladly - carefully spreading the worlds prettiest little puss, and staring in bemused arousal at the thick, neon green juice starting to drip from Genji’s opening.

“Damn flashy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	52. Genji/Hanzo Forced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their father hadn't taken kindly to Hanzo's late presentation.

The door opens and Hanzo scrabbles to get out. His gut is burning up, limbs feeling like they don’t belong to him. He’s never felt anything like it and he fears he’s going to die. He doesn’t want to die in a little closet behind his father’s office.

It’s hard to see anything after the darkness of his tight confines - he blindly crawls towards the light and the commotion. He can hear Genji screaming abuse and the grunts of men fighting. Someone kicks Hanzo’s shoulder hard. He whines, the pain amplified by his heat - everything feels so much.

His hips hunch; then push back against the floor into lordosis. His hakama are wet and clinging, shoulder throbbing from the kick. He’s going to die. He’s going to burn up from the inside.

And then - a heavy weight falling onto him and the sound of the door being locked down again.

Genji floods his senses; his smell - hormones flying from his agitation; his voice - screaming indignantly, fists pounding against the door of the closet.

Hanzo whines and Genji freezes.

–

They are as far away from one another as possible. Their toes are still touching, and Hanzo wants to cry his eyes out. Genji has been deathly silent for a while; only his breathing getting continually louder. A soft, wheezing panting on the edge of a panic attack.

Hanzo’s hand crawls forward until he feels his little brother’s fingers. His skin feels clammy and blessedly cool. Hanzo wants to press Genji’s hand against his sweating brow; wants to curl against his chest.

–

It feels like an eternity for the two young men but it couldn’t be more than half an hour until Genji is pulling Hanzo close, sweaty hand shoving down his pants, fingers sliding through a ridiculous amount of slick.

They’re feverish; out of their minds with lust. When Hanzo feels Genji’s fingers press against the loose, swollen muscle - ready for mounting and knotting and breeding - Hanzo keens pathetically, cock jerking in the tangle of his clothes.

Genji croons at him - the primal Alpha need to calm him down. Get him comfortable. Make him forget they were locked in a small closet during Hanzo’s first heat because of their father’s kneejerk reaction to his oldest son’s gender.

“Pretty omega,” Genji coos, fingers pumping in with wet, squelching sounds, nose pressing beneath his brother’s ear. “Just calm down. Just calm down. I know what you need. Going to give it to you. Just like all those other pretty little omegas. I know what you need…”

He will mount his brother. Make Hanzo turn around and get him to present for his own flesh and blood, forehead bumping against the wall, breath fast and whimpering in the thick, bad air of the closet.

He’ll drive in deep on the first thrust. Hanzo feels ready for it. More than ready. He’s so ripe; sucking him in, fingers squelching in the slick he’s producing.

“’M gonna breed you up so well,” he promises in a soft whisper, licking the back of his brother’s neck. He can taste the salt of his sweat and feel the fever roll off of him in waves. He feels drunk; everything is spinning in the darkness and he lists to the side before he manages to get an arm out and brace himself against the door of the closet.

The Omega before him is shivering, tilting his ass up; begging for it with the sweetest little music.

Genji couldn’t say whether he still knew who Hanzo was when he finally pushed in and rutted deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	53. Soldier: 76/Reaper Deflowering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets to try out Gabriel's ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Okay okay, but- Gruff, embarrassed virgin!Gabe getting his juicy ass eaten out by Jack and finally learning what he's been missing out on. Wondering wtf is going on with Jack's obsession with his equally big thighs and just getting fussy/grumpy to hide how embarrassing (and hot) it is."

“What are you doing?! Oh god…”

Gabriel shudders and quickly lets his head hang low between his arms so Jack fucking Morrison wouldn’t see his face - wouldn’t see how he…

Jack groans. He fucking groans right against Gabriel’s taint, warm and intimate, and Gabriel can feel the vibration up into his heavy, filled balls. He bites his tongue in surprise, body jerking.

And then Jack is speaking - mumbling into Gabriel’s ass in midst of giving him more sloppy licks that get everything so wet, he imagines he can feel saliva dripping down.

His thighs shake. Jack groans again, his face mashed between Gabriel’s ass cheeks. He sounds like he’s fucking choking and Gabriel jerks again; tries to get away, face burning as he thinks about how he would have to explain that to the brass. Golden boy Morrison suffocated by…

Jack’s arms curl around his thighs and keep him from moving. A slurred “Wait wait whoa… don’t go” audible. The last sounds pathetic - wheezed out like a question.

Gabriel wants to bite something. To scratch something. His cock feels indecisive, half hard and bobbing, his belly is tickling. He is embarrassed and hot and Morrison is mashing his face back into his ass so hard that it ruts Gabriel forward and he nearly breaks his nose on the bed frame.

This time when Morrison sighs, he can understand it better.

“I goddamn love this ass. Oh my god…”

Gabriel’s toes curl and he growls because it is either that or whimper in mortification.

Morrison is starting to lick again and this time his cock gets the memo. Fills up fat and needy so fast his head spins.

He can’t believe the noises Morrison is making. Like he’s the one with a tongue up his ass - groaning against Gabriel’s spit wet skin. Gabriel presses his face into his stacked arms and bites his hand because it’s that or spontaneously combust.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch even though the muscles in his lower back are contracting again and again; trying to get him to… to move back. (He wants to…. he wants to rub his ass against Morrison’s perfect fucking face…)

Gabriel clenches his eyes shut tight against the thought.

Morrison is groping his thighs now - squeezing until it hurts and Gabriel has to harden his muscles against it.

Morrison - honest to fucking god - sobs. Pulls his head up from between Gabriel’s cheeks and sobs in a huge gulping breath before he presses his forehead against Gabriel’s ass. He rubs reverent hands across Gabriel’s thighs.

“I wanna die between them. Good god you need to crush my head between your thighs, Gabe. C’mon. C’mon you need to sit on my face.”

Gabriel jerks; white noise exploding in his head as he suddenly comes, embarrassing and hard - and probably kicking Morrison in the face in the process because when he comes to, Morrison is nursing a bleeding nose, but he’s still looking determined to… to…

“Dios mio…” Gabriel whispers helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	54. Soldier: 76/Reaper Deflowering Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is absolutely addicted to Gabriel's ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "i reread the virgin gabe ficlet and i'm dying. please, please write more with that. or just more of Gabe being embarrassed by Jack worshipping his ass, flustered virgin Gabe is amazing and lovely and i'm dying of thirst for this thing i never even considered before."

Gabriel’s phone vibrates quietly against his thigh but he ignores it this time, resolutely staring ahead at the orator. He is slouching, hood of his sweatshirt pulled up and into his face; he is listening but nobody else needs to know that.

His phone vibrates again and he shifts on his seat; slides down a little lower, knees falling farther apart. He couldn’t tell whether he was angry or horny - these past days those emotions were almost synonymous for one another. He was starting to form a weird pavlovian reflex to it.

Another vibration tickles along his thigh and his resolve snaps, hand digging in his pants to pull it out, schooling his face into a scowl preemptively.

Still, he could feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment when he saw Morrison’s texts.

_Tonight, plz._

_Plz Gabe - just once. Just try it ok? we dont have to continue if you dont like it._

_gabe cmon please i cant think of anything else just let me get it out of my system i wont badger you again after this if you dont want me to_

And while he stares, another one buzzes in:

_just try it once PLEASE_

He scrolls back up, staring at the messages beforehand - and the one picture he had taken after Morrison had been begging long enough. The one where his sweatpants were shoved just beneath his ass and he was awkwardly shooting a pic over his shoulder through the mirror.

Gabriel scowls more fiercely, belly churning in embarrassment. Angrily, he punches in his answer and shoves his phone back into his pants.

_Ok. Fuck you, Morrison._

Pavlovian fucking conditioning. He resolutely ignores the rest of the excited buzzing.

.o.

Gabriel carefully shuffles a little farther up upon Jack’s eager urging and freezes immediately at the low groan from beneath him. It sounds fucking pained and he lifts up, staring down at Jack’s face in dismay.

Morrison is already flushed - not hard when one was as pale as him - eyes heavy lidded. He was practically cross-eyed, blinking up at Gabriel past his hard cock. It looked ridiculous.

Gabriel could feel another wave of embarrassment churn in his belly.

“Are you fucking alright?”

“Wha…? Yes. Yes! I’m alright. Gabriel, I’ll slap your thigh if something…” He interrupts himself, blinks, seems to reconsider. “Give me your hand. I’ll squeeze your hand if I need you to get up. And now sit down. Please for the love of-”

Gabriel lowers himself again; gingerly, one hand at the headboard to steady his descent, the other weaving fingers with Morrison. He wants to break his fucking hand, but he can’t concentrate on that now; not when his sac was dragging warm and heavy across the bridge of Morrison’s nose.

“Jesús,” he whispers when he feels Jack’s warm breath puffing against his hole and squeezes his eyes shut tight. A second later, Morrison’s tongue is flickering against the strong clench of muscle and Gabriel lets out a breath he had not been aware of holding.

Jack’s free arm curls around one of his thighs - hand liberally groping - then starts pulling him down; making him sit sit sit until the heat starts crawling up from Gabriel’s belly again, settling in his face. He was… He could feel the heat building up; how everything became moist with Morrison’s warm, gasping - choked - breaths; the eager drag of his tongue; Gabriel’s sweat.

Jack is making sounds; pathetic little whimpers which he muffles directly against Gabriel’s ass before he opens up; soft and intrusive; rudely licking Gabriel’s crack as far as he could reach, swirling around the shy pucker of his asshole, then sucking eager kisses into the soft skin behind his heavy balls.

Gabriel can’t help but groan, head sinking back, fingers tightening on Morrison’s grip because it got progressively harder to keep his hips calm and loose; not make them move and filthily grind down against the rude tongue trying to push in in in - fuck him wet and naughty on the slippery muscle.

Morrison has trouble breathing and still pushes closer; digs his stubbled chin in until Gabriel grunts and sits up straighter. His cock is hard and heavy; smearing pre-cum into Morrison’s golden farmboy hair that Gabriel wants to rip on; hold onto while he fucking bounces down on Morrison’s face, breaks his nose, makes him suck on his hole…

Gabriel whimpers, belly tightening, hips jerking minutely, unable to keep them still any longer. Morrison doesn’t seem upset by it - quite the opposite. His hand slides over, fingers tickling the small of Gabriel’s back; the top of his ass crack; all the way down until they start rubbing rudely against the slippery clench of muscle.

Gabriel can’t help but whimper, upper body twisting, trying to look at what the fuck Morrison was doing now and not managing in the slightest. His groin felt on fire; his balls smearing all over Jack’s blissfully closed eyes and sweaty forehead.

He was sitting squarely on his face, suffocating him in his progressively more humid ass and still he sounded fucking delirious.

“Crazy bastard,” Gabriel whispers - whines - back arching, hips rocking minutely…

He comes into Jack’s fucking perfect blond hair the second Morrison wriggles one broad fingertip into him. He wipes his cock on the sticky strands for good measure just to get him back for his cheekily wandering fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	55. Reaper/Genji Tasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper admires Genji's equipment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "hello i don't know if you're taking fic requests but i have a very big need for genji sitting on reaper's face and dripping the baja blast while reaper eats out his robopuss :^))"

Genji’s cunt was a thing of beauty, Gabriel had to admit - even if he’d never tell Angela as much. He had the cutest little lips; plump and soft to the touch, squishing gratifyingly when Reaper felt like teasing him; pinching his pretty labia between fingers until Genji was squirming, vents rising colorful and letting out steam.

It was especially pretty rubbing against his tongue; Genji riding him with smooth, needy twists of his hips, voice sweetly distorted as he sang his little love cries into the room, rising in pitch the harder Gabriel focused sucking on the intriguing nub of his synthetic clit.

Sometimes, Gabriel wondered what went through Mercy’s head when she designed the genitalia of the cyborg; how he… she… they? were able to change up at will; little panels sliding out of easily hidden compartments and covering up the plump pussy Gabriel had gotten addicted to, only for the clit to change into….

“More… more… please,” Genji growls, hips twisting, grinding down, smearing glowing green juice against Gabriel’s dark goatee. “Use your teeth, I beg you - please!”

Gabriel grinned sharp and triumphant, tongue snaking to prod at the freakishly fine mesh that lined Genji’s cunt (that was so cool to the touch, shaping itself to a cock and lovingly hugging it inside), lapping at the sweetness dripping out in syrupy drops.

How shocked Gabriel had been that first time at how Genji’s juices tasted - and how addicted he was to them now. Enough so to make him beg and whine; crawl back for more again and again just so Gabriel can have him sit on his face and drip feed him his tasty cunt right from the source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	56. Soldier: 76/Reaper Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satyr!Gabriel and Werewolf!Jack fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "let's combine things: big, floofy, overeager were!Jack & flustered, gruff virgin satyr!Gabe, where Jack spends a good 60% of his time as a human lavishing Gabe w attention, sad he can't leave visible marks on his thighs but just as eager to worship them, tweaking his cute little tail whenever they're not rutting against each other. Gabe loves the attention even when he complains, but he DEFINITELY wasn't expecting wolf!Jack to be just as into it until he's pinned under him getting deep dicked."
> 
> Note: Started talking on my Tumblr about creature feature Overwatch basically.

*needs a fucking inhalator because of heavy breathing*

can you imagine though. When Jack is still just quietly pining from afar and Gabriel doesn’t give him the time of day…

Jack usually leaves the immediate training area as soon as Gabriel saunters in. It’s obvious - the other recruits have noticed, at least, grinning and ribbing him with low voices - but he couldn’t very well just keep sparring when Reyes was right there on the mat next to his, getting progressively sweatier - the thick fur of his lower body starting to curl with dampness…

Jack usually sat to the side and nursed a bottle of water, eyes fixedly staring at a spot somewhere in the vicinity of Gabriel’s black hooves - because the satyr hated getting stared at directly and had a freakish sixth sense about it - and breathed carefully and deep, sensitive nose taking in Reyes’ scent getting thicker and warmer the longer he was sparring.

And fuck Jack wanted to roll in it. He wanted to steal one of Reyes’ towels and drag his face across it; sniff until he would come just from the aroma of it - and the memories that Reyes had been rubbing down his frankly obscene rump with it.

Jack had never seen an ass more perfect; round and firm and basically just… just there for the taking. One would just need to brush the luxurious thick fur to the side to get at what was undoubtedly the sweetest little hole…

Damn but Reyes was asking for it. That small, strong tail of his up and alert when he was sparring, flicking and drawing attention to his gloriously fat ass and the freakishly strong thighs.

Jack knew for a fact Reyes could split melons with them - he’d seen him drunk at the last Summer festival…

God damn he wanted to walk over and talk to Reyes. Ask him out. Get his… his number or something - no, stupid, they lived in the same fucking hallway after all. 

Jack just wanted he didn’t know what he wanted. Mostly to let his tongue loll out and pant after the gorgeous Satyr. He wanted not to have to chain himself to the wall in his rooms at full moons because he’d go out and hunt himself a pretty little piece of flesh to sate the urge.

Jack whined, high and pathetic, and let his head hang low. He needed to think of something else. Anything else. Anything but jerking off over Reyes’ rump and getting his spunk all over the dark, thick fur. Anything but burying his head between his fluffy thighs and work to get at the undoubtedly shy little hole hiding there.

He needed to get Reyes out of his damn system because otherwise he’d be going insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	57. Genji/Hanzo Oviposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji likes to get his brother full and round...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: “ Genji filling Hanzo with his eggs would be really hot. Even better when Hanzo has to push them out later”

“You are such a diligent mother, Hanzo,” Genji whispers, voice humming with that new buzz that made Hanzo squirm until his belly started gurgling from the motion, large immovable eggs shifting within his gut.

He groans before he can press a hand in front of his mouth and Genji tuts, curling closer around his back, hands sliding beneath Hanzo’s sweaty knees to pull them up towards his chest.

“You’ve kept them warm for so long. Do you want my children, aniki? Little dragons for your own?”

Hanzo grunts at the new shift of his belly, eggs moving, sliding, lowering. His ears start to burn before his cheeks do. He has to fight to keep his rim closed against the insistent push of the eggs Genji filled him with earlier - patiently pushing the well-lubed toys inside his trussed up brother while listening to his threats and curses with that enigmatic omnic visage of his.

Genji tuts behind him. One hand moves from behind his knee, down the back of his thigh; cool, metallic fingertip circling the quivering rim of his hole with tickling brushes.

“Don’t hold back now, Hanzo. Don’t hurt yourself - don’t hurt our little dragons. You need to let them go now…”

Hanzo grits his teeth, head falling back against Genji’s shoulder, black and grey strands of hair plastered to the sides of his sweaty face. He strains back, presses his heated shoulders against Genji’s cool chestplate and holds on as much as he can - tries not to give in to the urge and disgrace himself in front of his brother.

“Haaanzo,” Genji wheedles, gentle… tranquil - his fingertip still circling the slick, trembling muscle until suddenly it gives way; just opens up and lets gravity do its work as a smooth, round ball slides out of Hanzo, the next filling up the emptied space immediately. Slides down in a fluid motion that leaves Hanzo reeling, eyes wide and mouth hanging open from the relief of one ‘egg’ deposited.

Genji coos at him. Strokes his bulging belly with one hand as the other plucks the ball up and puts it to the side in the little nest he made. Hanzo can see it well - is sure Genji has placed it just where he has because he wants him to see it.

“Taking such good care of my eggs, aniki,” Genji whispers again, hand rubbing and gently pushing down, helping the balls to move inside Hanzo’s gut, pressing down against the red, inflamed looking rim that opens easier this time - just capitulates at the smooth pressure of the ball.

“Oh,” Hanzo gasps, cheeks pounding with blood, stumps jerking uselessly in the air. His nipples feel over sensitive, and his gut is gurgling, moving the eggs around, working them down his intestines until he can carefully push them out one by one with a little wave of the generous amounts of slick Genji has pushed into him alongside the precious cargo.

“Beautiful,” Genji comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	58. Soldier: 76/D.Va Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D.Va has Soldier: 76 wrapped around her little finger.

“Do you wonder how it feels?” D.Va coos, fingers keeping her labia spread; showing off the candy pink of her insides. “Do you dream of fucking me?”

She sounds honestly curious; gentle, eyes big and dark in her face, cheeks flushed. She almost looks cute and innocent. Like a pretty little lady instead of the merciless, loving she-demon she was.

Soldier: 76 can’t take his eyes off the velvety space between her spread legs. The little Miss is shameless - her knees far apart, showing off her everything; from the small, firm tits that feel like hard, little apples when she rubs them against his chest, across the shivering, fatty plane of her belly, down to the cheeky finger rounding her opening again… and again… and again…

He gets dizzy the longer he watches. His cock aches for a taste. He wants to crawl inside her head first and sample the sweetness she has been offering him for months and not allowed him to actually take.

You can only see. Not take. Don’t be a bad boy, now.

“You think about it often, don’t you?” D.Va commiserates. She dips a finger in; shows him how tight she is - her little snatch closing around the single, slim digit and suckling it in. 76 throws his head back and thumps it against the wall so hard he sees stars. It doesn’t help his cock. It feels ridiculously swollen in his fist. Big and proud - a cock anybody would be happy to cram into their little holes.

Anybody but D.Va. Anybody but her.

She just looked and laughed and played him like an instrument.

“You can watch me,” she promises magnanimously. “Come on. Use your toy. I bought it just for you. You can watch me and fuck yourself and it’ll be like the real thing, right? Right??”

He wants to sob because they both know the answer to it. Instead, he breaths deep and ragged and pulls the pink fleshlight towards himself. It is sparkling and girly, and he can almost pretend like it’s the real thing.

Like it’s that hairy little cunt he’s been thirsting after; watching D.Va play with herself, tug at her pubes and pinch her fat clit until there’s her juices drooling out that silky little opening.

He fucks into the fleshlight for her amusement; goes on all fours and lets her watch the flex of his ass and abs when she asks for it with a little laugh and burning cheeks.

He is her play thing. This little lady has him curled around her small, dainty fingers and he can’t help but follow her every tug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	59. McCree/Reaper Whipping Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree and his big mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Blackwatch Gabriel whipping Jesse's ass to welts with his ridiculous BAMF belt after he says something particularly bratty about him in front of the other soldiers. Either bent over the desk in Reyes office or just in public where everyone can see jesse crying like a baby, idk XD nonnie has a corporal punishment kink. Either way, Jesse isn't feeling particularly 'bamf' afterwards and blushes/thinks of hot angry reyes every time he puts on his belt."

Blood is dripping thick from Jesse’s mouth. He’s on his best way to biting through his tongue and doesn’t even feel it. There’s another slap and he jerks, hands sliding in the mess of drool and blood on the table, arms nearly giving way.

The smack of the belt is loud and meaty, resounding across the yard. There are people watching, he knows dimly, but nobody is making a sound. Everybody is eager to hear the next smack - the next impact of his own belt across his ass and the spread of his thighs.

His ass feels raw and Reyes’ hand on the small of his back is like a branding iron. Warm and grounding and so gentle for once. Like he’s almost sorry Jesse is a stupid son of a bitch and how he knows he can’t help his smart mouth.

The next slap has Jesse feel the brunt of the thick metal buckle and for the first time he screams - a spray of blood spewing from his mouth, one hand sliding away for good and chin connecting hard with the wood.

He passes out from the impact or something because everything is fuzzy for a while and needs time to drift back into focus. He feels Reyes palming the ruin of his ass and hears the jangling of his belt when he lets it idly swing in his big fist.

“You know to behave yourself next time, don’t you, McCree?”

“S…. Suh….” 

He doesn’t know if it’s enough - but he feels weight slowly lowering onto his back and hears the heavy foot steps of the Commander walking away; letting McCree stand with his pants down and his ass out, his belt lying on his back coiled like a sleeping snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	60. McCree/Hanzo Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo shows McCree off on a train packed full with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "I have an exhibitionism kink. McHanzo getting it on in a crowded train."

“Open your eyes, McCree.”

Hanzo curls a strand of Jesse’s hair around his finger, playfully tugging, eyes casting a sly gaze towards the rest of the train wagon.

“Look at them. They’re staring. They can’t believe their eyes.”

McCree is clawing at the edge of his seat. His cheeks are ruddy beneath the scruff of his unkempt beard, brow shining with sweat.

Cock silky between Hanzo’s gripping fingers.

It’s like Jesse can’t believe himself what was happening. He is probably wondering how it could’ve let to this - to him digging his heels into the floor, spurs jangling, abs clenching, cock flexing in Hanzo’s sly grip in the middle of a packed train wagon.

People had been so quiet the whole ride over - now they were murmuring. A dull backdrop as they seemed flustered, intrigued, disgusted with their conduct.

Hanzo seems supremely unperturbed. He is a warm, insistent weight against Jesse’s side, fingers tickling the underside of his cock; letting it slide velvety through his fingers, pulling down the foreskin until the swollen, wet head was out in the open - glistening and on display for everybody to see.

“Open your eyes, McCree,” Hanzo cajoles again - like he hasn’t heard the scandalized gasp from somewhere. He’s reaching farther down and McCree grits his teeth, eyes snapping open in alarm. He wants to say something but can’t - tongue tied when he suddenly sees the ring of people that has built around them.

Some have their phones out.

He’s fucked either way.

It doesn’t matter if Hanzo lifts his ripe, large testicles out of his underwear as well. It doesn’t fucking matter anymore. He kicks his heels out, jams them back into the ground - makes a great big fucking ruckus as Hanzo slowly jerks him in front of the crowd, the wagon becomes sweltering and the air almost too thick to breathe, and Jesse wildly wonders whether they missed their stop.

He can’t believe this shit. How Hanzo can look cool and collected - like he’s doing nothing more than scratch an itch while daintily licking the tips of his fingers and then circling them round and round Jesse’s tip - shows everybody how Jesse likes it best.

Shows everybody and the world how Jesse looked when he jerked out his orgasm; coaxed it out right there in the rattling train in front of gaping onlookers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	61. McCree/D.Va More Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree doesn't fare better than the good Soldier.

They’re both looking down their bodies, watching where McCree is letting the flushed head of his cock kiss at D.Va’s labia. His chin is on his chest. He is huffing like a train - big, chuffing breaths, shaggy eyebrows drawn together in the utmost concentration.

He glances up at D.Va like a dog kicked as he carefully presses forward; lets the tip slide between her hairy labia, rubbing it through the sticky warmth he finds there while nervously watching her face. She looks calm - mildly interested in the proceedings as she twirls one strand of hair around her finger and idly chews her gum.

She looks like she doesn’t particularly mind one way or another. Actually, she looks like she’s thinking about her stream in just half an hour - only mildly entertained by McCree’s cock.

He whines; high and pathetic, big hand spasming on D.Va’s thigh, pushing it just a little farther to the side to make her lips spread farther; let him see the prize she’s been offering him today like an afterthought. 

“Do you want to fuck me before the stream?”

He thinks about her sitting in her chair playing her game, drinking her soda, screaming at other players all the while her little cunt is dripping is spunk and swollen from getting reamed.

He doesn’t need her to be particularly interested in it. He’ll go and pick up his shattered manliness when everything is said and done - when he finally finally had been allowed to sample the candy she’s been dangling in front of his nose for months now.

D.Va thinks he looks cute - big hirsute man with his tongue lolling out and his cock so swollen and flushed dark it had to hurt. She watches the unkempt tangle of his beard as it rubs against his chest; the feverish almost insane look in his gentle brown eyes as he stares down, hips shivery and coltish like a young man’s just from the prospect of getting to fuck her.

It’s just when he slots the fat head against her tender opening that she finally moves with a little sigh, the leg he isn’t holding in an ape-like grip coming up, her toes pushing into the soft pouch McCree has around his middle. She digs in deep until she hears him grunt softly, then stays like this. His body is thrumming; he is ready to burst and that makes her even more excited.

“I changed my mind,” she says easily - and for a second it looks like McCree is going to cry. His face falls, his cheeks shiver with the deep, rattling breath he takes, and his fingers dig into her thigh painfully.

She loves it. She can feel her cunt spasming almost painfully in acute lust, and from the grating sob wrenched out of McCree, she thinks he can feel it against the pounding head of his neglected cock.

“Come on. Take a step back.” She pushes harder, digs her big toe into the hairy dip of his belly button - and he lets her push him away. Obediently steps back from her and stands there like a scolded boy, big cock still in his big fist, looking so sad and denied, she has to reach down and pluck at her clit with almost frantic excitement. 

“You can come on my feet,” she tells him, breathlessly, eyes flitting along his body - watching this big man fold to her every whim. The parts of his face that aren’t covered with the tangle of his beard flush a humiliated red. His eyes shine like he’s about to cry - but he does step forward, the muscles in his biceps bunching as he starts jerking it, eyes feverish on her little snatch; watching her play with herself and easily dip fingers where he had been about to slip just a minute earlier.

She had been hot like a little oven. 

As he frantically jerks off onto the candy pink toes of her feet, he wonders if he’ll ever be allowed to actually fuck her. If he even wants to be allowed.

He thanks her politely afterwards for the privilege and gets a little jolt of arousal out of D.Va’s amused tittering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	62. Hanzo/D.Va Even More Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is another one of her poor blue balled pets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Dva denying the men her pussy - esp the mccree one, phew. Wonder how Hanzo would react in that situation considering how slutty he is."

“Come oooon.” D.Va makes a show out of rolling her eyes in annoyance. “I thought you wanted it so badly? You’ve been begging me for weeks. And here I give you the chance and you’re not taking it. I think you don’t want it bad enough.”

She reaches up and curls her fingers around the rungs of the bed above to give herself better leverage to twist her hips and rub the messy folds of her cunt along Hanzo’s cock.

He strains beneath her, eyes wide and crazy, arms bulging as he fights against the restraints he willingly let her put on him.

She lifts up; lets his cock spring away from his stomach, glistening and sticky. She is hovering close enough to let the tip sway just before her opening and giggles at his frustrated, heartbroken whine. 

“Don’t be like that. It’s right there. Just take it, why don’t you? I don’t think you want it at all.”

He grits his teeth - bares them at her like a dog and coils his muscles; preparing her for the way he snaps his hips up, trying to bury himself in that sweet, warm space she’s been taunting him with. She easily twists her hips just so; lets his cock slide against the crease of her thigh, making him look like a clumsy, little boy.

D.Va tuts and tilts her head; sits back down on him - his belly this time, cock just about snuggling into the crack of her ass, her cunt lying warm and slick against his heaving abs.

“The other boys would’ve gotten it ages ago,” she tells him and watches his face screw tight into an expression of pain and anger and canine eagerness to prove himself. “I think you haven’t earned it, after all. You still need to learn how to use that cock of yours.”

She lets her head rest against her own biceps and watches him with faux contemplation. His eyes flit across her body; from her face to the dark patches of soft hair in her exposed armpits, down to the candy pink gash he’s been lusting after. He stays there; stares like that would make her reconsider and give it to him anyway.

“Show me again how you’d do it,” she finally sighs - sounding so put out that he whines, stumps scrabbling at the bed, head straining up as he tries to kiss any part of her; soothe her; make her not upset with him.

Like an eager puppy.

She gets him his toy even before she opens his binds and he lunges for the silicone cock like it’s his salvation. He is so very eager to show her how he’d use it; not at all the stoic archer that he pretends to be on the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	63. Reaper/D.Va+Soldier: 76 Cuckolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D.Va teases Soldier: 76 with her newest acquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Maybe some Dva76 that has her sending him nudes during meetings, teasing that poor old man to the point he has to excuse himself."
> 
> Anonymous said: “you said you were in a dva/76 mood soo dva brings in reaper to fuck her while 76 watches. 76 gets a nice front row seat to the show as she lets reaper fuck her hairy lil pussy. reaper graciously lets 76 clean his cock while dva laughs at how pathetic and desperate he is for her tight cunt”

There was a picture on Soldier: 76′s phone and he hadn’t been able to look away from it for the past five minutes.

He was sitting on his bed in a threadbare tank top and shorts that were tented over an erection he wasn’t going to touch because - because he had been explicitly denied to do so.

 _Look at my new best friend_ , the caption on the bottom of the picture read - and then the short message sent right afterwards: _He gets to touch. you don’t._

The soldier’s hand was curled tight around the phone; knuckles white and palm sweaty; staring at D.Va sitting on Reaper’s lap, her legs spread wide to accommodate the sheer girth of his thick thighs; his brown cock hard and obscenely big lying in the crease between her candy pink snatch and thigh.

She had taken the picture in a big mirror. He could see Gabriel’s scarred face; the wicked grin ripped into one corner of his mouth even wider with a shit eating smile. He had one big hand hooked beneath D.Va’s armpit, completely covering one of her small, hard tits.

He could hear them in the room right next to his. He could hear her little staccato cries and the occasional, low grunt. He could not hear the slapping of skin but he could imagine it.

His cock was starting to wet through the thin fabric of his shorts and his heart was beating so hard and fast, he was wondering whether he was going to have a stroke.

The phone in his hand buzzed and another picture was shoving the two previous messages up.

D.Va was arching her chest out so far, her small tits had all but vanished - only the swollen tips of her nipples prominent. Gabriel’s arms were around her soft belly, hugging her to him like a primate as he fucked her.

As he fucked her.

His cock was inside that warm little space Jack had been sniffing after for months. It was dark and thick and spread her labia farther apart than he had ever seen her do with any toy. He was balls deep - everything was wet and messy, and Jack wished he was there so he could at least hear the sounds they were bound to make. The wet, nasty sounds of him fucking her… ruining her stingy little snatch with his big cock that curved a little and probably pushed at every good spot from the blissed out look on her face - the shaky quality of the picture as she tried to keep it steady.

Wish you were here? The caption read and he bit his tongue.

His cock was jerking out another little dribble of cum, balls throbbing like a wound. They were full and aching - hadn’t been emptied in two weeks. He couldn’t believe that Gabriel of all people…

God he wanted…

His phone dinged again - this time a simple message without pictures.

_Come over._

He scrambles to obey. He bursts out into the hallway, feverish and insane looking, cock bobbing in his shorts, without thinking about running into anybody.

He can’t feel his feet when he stumbles over and palms the controls next to the door - falls in and nearly crashes to his knees. He is still holding his phone like a talisman in a deathgrip. The casing is creaking.

D.Va is still sitting on Gabriel’s lap. His cock is still inside her. They’re sweaty - her face is flushed and as satisfied as Jack has never seen it before. Gabriel’s hand is lazy on her thigh, close to the sticky mess of her hairy, little cunt.

As Jack watches with a feverish laser focus, one broad fingertip slides over and easily thumbs her swollen, plump clit to make her jump and laugh breathlessly.

The motion jostles his softening cock and makes it slide out of her with a meaty, wet thwacking sound. A thick gush of cum accompanies it, dripping down onto the wet, thick cock.

“Right on time,” she sighs. She sits on his lap like a queen. She has her arms up around his neck and squeezes him like he’s a big teddy bear. His eyes are gleaming a hellish red and his grin is widening more and more above the crown of her head.

“We made a mess. Clean us up,” she tells him, wriggles her hips and the toes of her feet.

Jack is drawn closer; kneels down between Gabriel’s thighs and glances up at them before leaning forward and getting to work; tongue eager and greedy as he licks Gabriel’s cock and her messy cunt, his cock rubbing against the scratchy fabric of his threadbare shorts.

When she’s bored of his tongue, she tugs at Gabriel’s curls and mewls for a shower like the spoiled princess she is.

It feels like she has already forgotten about Jack (about his throbbing cock and pounding balls).

He has to pinch the base of his cock so he wouldn’t come right then and there, sitting alone on the floor, listening to the shower getting turned on, having Gabriel’s triumphant, shit-eating grin still fresh in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	64. Reaper/Lúcio sub!Reaper/dom!Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... gentle dom Lúcio meeting gruff sub Gabe who was never expecting someone younger (and shorter) than him to know the first thing about being a dom, let alone doing it so sweetly? He's used to aggressive doms that abused him in the past. Lúcio's the complete opposite and makes Gabe feel like an inexperienced teen all over again, confused and just... wanting to make this strange, beautiful man smile.

They meet in a club and Gabriel thinks Lúcio has confused him with one of the doms like so many others before him. He’s used to it because he doesn’t really make an effort to look cute or especially submissive. (actually he just stands against a wall in his black ripped getup and scowls like it’s a chore to be there and not like he made it a conscious choice to spend money on getting in. he’s a goober that way).

It takes him half the evening of trying to get the kid to fuck off to understand that he had made the wrong assumptions about Lúcio just the way people did about him.

He wants to laugh him in the face (ok. he absolutely laughs in his face) and tell him that he should first get out of diapers before trying to dom anybody his caliber but Lúcio isn’t dissuaded (isn’t even angry at the diaper comment) and keeps asking to buy him a soda and if he has someone steady and if he would even be interested in a scene with him.

And Lúcio is cute ok? not even Gabriel Reyes can withstand those pretty brown eyes.

Long story short: he gets snappy and self-conscious when Lúcio categorically crosses out any hard pain play and is like ‘Dude, it’d be our first scene. and I really just want to pamper someone? Like wash you and let you kneel for me and stuff?’. Gabriel thinks he’s trying to fuck with his head. Like he’s making fun of him or something.

They end up having three very strange coffee dates where Gabriel is the biggest, meanest asshole ever but lets Lúcio buy him everything and tell him again and again and again what he was thinking about doing because he couldn’t believe that the kid was being real.

In the end he finally agrees just because he’s curious. Lúcio is like two heads shorter, he’ll be able to overpower him easily if things happen to go south (which is his usual way of picking out partners these days: whether he can put them on the mat in three seconds or not. it’s safer that way)

but then he realizes that the kid actually was real and is just as sweet and jovial during a scene and Gabriel thinks that will never fucking work like… ever. he needs a lot of sharp pain and hours of playing to get good and out of his head. 

BUT OOPS SUDDENLY HE’S IN SUDSY WARM WATER AND JUST LISTENING TO LÚCIO’S VOICE WITHOUT PARSING THE WORDS AND TURNS INTO HIS HANDS WITH SOFT LITTLE MEWLING SOUNDS AND HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	65. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omfg gentle dom lucio/angry sub reaper HEALING SEX PLS because reaper needs LOTS OF GENTLE LOVING DEEP DICKING to convince him he deserves nice things

BUT! Lúcio takes a long friggin’ time to work up to the penetration part even without his partner having baggage; and Gabriel won’t say a word about other partners (probably because he doesn’t even realize it’s been abusive), but it’s really not hard to figure it out, right? Lúcio is a really clever boy and Gabriel is a moody edgelord.

So yes. Just imagine that first time…

“Will you kneel for me?”

The lethargy after the warm, sudsy bath drains from Gabriel’s limbs somewhat and he narrows his eyes. He stares at Lúcio and takes in how he is still clothed in ridiculous bermuda shorts with frogs on them and a tank top. 

It reminds him of his own naked vulnerability - not that he minds too much. He has a gorgeous body and knows it. He sniffs and turns his head sideways; watches the kid out of the corner of his eyes.

“Why?”

Lúcio blinks where he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Because I asked you to?”

“What do you want?”

“For you to kneel. Here, I got a cushion for you.”

Gabriel grinds his teeth. He is still a little wet from the bath and his body is starting to loose the fuzzy warmth that the water had pushed into him. He is getting annoyed with the kid again. 

Lúcio actually produces a cushion; big and green and in the shape of a smiling frog. Gabriel wants to tear it open because it is looking cute and there isn’t supposed to be anything cute about this.

“Kneel for me?” Lúcio says again, nudging the cushion with his foot a little. He looks nervous now, like he’s unsure what’s happening, and it makes Gabriel even more unhappy. He doesn’t want his Dom to be unsure and shy. He needs him to take charge. To push him around. To step on hi-

He blinks, startled by his own thoughts, and rolls his shoulders to mask it. He sniffs again, derisively, then makes his way over and throws himself down on his knees in ill-grace.

He is petulant -

\- because this kid is not what he was looking for.

\- because the bath had actually been nice; Lúcio’s sudsy hands rubbing his muscles and exploring his body.

\- because the last vestiges of the comfortable fuzz that had filled his head were slipping away and it made him cranky.

\- because he wanted to be made to submit, cause he was too bad at it to do it himself, and this fucking boy couldn’t do it.

He drapes himself across one of Lúcio’s thighs and makes sure to put his weight into it. He feels a little better when Lúcio grunts as a result.

“Good boy. Thank you.”

Gabriel jerks and turns his head a little; scrutinizes the kid out of the corner of his eyes and curls a little tighter into himself because his belly feels warm and tingly and that is fucking stupid.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs. Lúcio puts a hand onto the nape of his neck and squeezes.

“And you’re a good boy, dude. Kneeling for me like that. Just look at you.”

Gabriel nearly whimpers and he hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	66. DVa/Soldier76 Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk if you'd wanna write this but. Please think about Dva teasing s76 in public. Putting a little vibe egg on the tip of his dick... or just grabbing his package under the table, or sitting (grinding) on his lap somewhere

“I wanna watch more Disney movies.”

D.Va looks unfazed while the others groan and shake their heads. She merely buries deeper beneath the blanket thrown across her, Jack, and Reinhardt, and pouts.

“I think we should put up a vote,” Genji suggests, sitting on the floor, back rigid - and not fooling anybody that he wasn’t leaning back against his tranquil master floating behind him.

The vote is inconclusive; just as many for the idea as there are against it - until Winston notices that one of them hasn’t thrown up his hand.

“Jack,” he says gently, big paws carefully cleaning his glasses. “What are you voting for?”

The soldier jerks a little, seemingly thrown out of deep thoughts. He blinks slowly, mouth opening, then closing, then frowns.

“What… was the question?”

“You want to watch more Disney movies with me, right?” D.Va interjects before any of the others can, throwing him a wheedling grin and lying her head on his shoulder. “Pleeeaaasssee?”

She looks innocent and sweet; not like she has her fingers on his balls, gripping them tight and unfriendly, sharp fingernails digging through the sweatpants he was wearing.

Sweat springs up along his hairline. He sits very still - like a rabbit in front of the snake.

“I….” he drags the one syllable long, his voice cracking and drawing confused gazes from the others. “That’s… fine by me.”

Some groan in exasperation, other’s just take it in stride.

Nobody sees how D.Va is stroking his cock beneath the blanket for the rest of the movie night; lets his silky member slide between her fingers in some twisted treat where he is never allowed to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	67. DVa/Soldier76 Denial 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unf i love how out of it 76 is

I know, right? he’d be sitting there staring at the TV with the most focused expression. Like it’s a mission debriefing and not the 800th time My Little Mermaid.

Just sitting very still and not moving a muscle while D.Va jerks him off slowly. Half way through she pretends to have lost one of her bracelets and dives down under the blanket to breathe warm and wet on his cock and maybe give him a little kiss.

He almost jack-knifes off the couch and swallows his tongue. His cock is pulsing and he makes a sound that’s so sharp and high that the others don’t even associate it with him - just look around in confusion.

He is sweating bullets, fucking scrabbling beneath the blanket, feeling pure, unadulterated terror as he realizes he’s about to come right onto her face and there’s nothing he can do to stop it because he’s not allowed to touch his cock other than to piss.

When D.Va’s mean little hand is there on his balls and digs her fingernails in again and pulls on them, he is fucking thankful. Like he’ll kiss her feet later and lick her toes and let her … oh god. oh fuck you peeps. here it goes, here it comes here iT COMES HOLY POOP FINALLY THE BEGINNING.

So he is so thankful he’ll let her put him in a pretty pink skirt and let her paint his nails and trim his greying pubes until they’re a cute little heart shape just above his cock.

“You’re such a pretty lady, aren’t you?” she coos, hand around her candy pink cock, jerking it and letting him watch how she handles it. “Bet you were real famous with the guys back in the day, eh?”

She crawls between his feet and tugs on the hair at his thighs until his cock flexes and drools a thin sticky stream against his heaving belly. He stares at her, mouth open, slack, helpless as his eyes roam across her body. Her small breasts are moving with her motions; bouncing as much as the little bit of fat they possess allow and he fantasizes about how perfect they would fit in his mouth. How he could suck them in and lave his tongue across those big, soft areolas.

Her bush is visible even above the harness she donned; unkempt and wild - not like she treated him; making him pretty and grooming him just like she wanted to.

He wonders how she’ll sound when he lets his hand slide across her soft, chubby belly and breathe against the fluffy hair in her pits. He wants her to squirm for him and mewl and beg for his cock - 

And then he jerks because she slapped him; slapped his hand and caught his cock with the sharp tips of her nails because she didn’t give a damn and he had been touching what was hers without even noticing.

“You don’t know how to work that thing,” she chides, shuffling forward, nudging her candy pink cock against his balls. “Just let me show you. You don’t know the first about pleasing a lady, so I’ll have to show you. Don’t I?”

“I…” his belly clenches, a denial close to his lips. His cock burns from the slap and his painted nails are digging into the bedding because he is close to coming. He feels like he’s going out of his mind, head feeling fuzzy and hot. “Yes.”

“Yes - what?”

She is nudging against his hole; slippery with lube and barely prepared by her small fingers. He isn’t worried; her cock is slim enough - but for the most part he trusts her implicitly.

“Y-You know better than I.”

She smiles. A radiant, happy grin as she starts to rock into him; giving him little bits of her dick.

“I like you better like this,” she coos at him when she’s gotten into it - really started having a rhythm with which she could comfortably fuck him. Her hands are slapping his thighs and squeezing his ass, and she’s having fun with flipping his skirt up and down over his leaking cock, trying to decide which look she liked better on him. “Lying and taking it is easier. You can do that, at least.”

She is nudging against his prostate and watches him squirm and get brick red. He is scrabbling at anything and everything he can reach and trying to stay quiet as long as possible - until it is not possible anymore and he breaks down; begs her for the permission to touch his cock, to clamp down on it, to let him try and keep his orgasm at bay; and in the end howling and begging for the permission to come on her cock.

“You wanna come? Come like a little whore on my pretty dick?”

“Yes, please, please, oh god please!” He is holding on by the skin of his teeth, his cock dark and swollen and getting the glossy fabric of his skirt sticky.

“No,” she purrs and listens to him sob hysterically and loud - not censoring himself like usual. She wonders who can hear them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	68. McCree/Hanzo Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're so beautiful, all spread out like this, just for me." With McHanzo, either regular or your Mob Boss AU, God bless

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out like this, just for me.”

Genji wasn’t there to hear him coo, and Hanzo made the most out of it. The dog was shivering against the wooden cross, drooling around his bit and glancing towards the dark window across from him with an uncharacteristically shy flush.

“You figured it already out, didn’t you?” Hanzo reaches out, plucks at the piercing through one dark nipple and watches McCree’s cock lift obediently; filling out even though he squirms and whines into the gag in vague protest. “Of course you did. You have those screens in America as well.”

He slants a gaze towards the dark mirror behind which a few of his guards stand; watching him play with his pet. He reaches down and curls a hand around McCree’s swelling cock; lifts it so they can appraise the meaty girth and length of it; then reaches even farther and lifts the dark, ripe balls beneath. Shows him off like the dog he is.

“You don’t need to fret. They only get to watch. I want to show off how obedient Americans can be…”

He glances up at McCree; still so young beneath the deceptive scruff of his beard. 

His eyes are huge and wet, flicking towards the window again and again, teeth grit into the bit Hanzo so likes to see him in. 

Hanzo reaches up, plucks at the ample chest hair, idly cards his fingers through for the viewing benefit of his guards, then steps to the side and turns his back towards the dark mirror, face tilting up towards McCree, lips softening from their cruel twist into a more fond smile.

“You want to show them how pretty you are for me, don’t you?” he purrs, and pinches McCree’s foreskin closed around the swelling head of his dick when the dog nods slowly, eyes going heavy lidded and needy even though he tries to twist his hips away and shield his body from the gazes he could probably feel.

“Good dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	69. Ana/Mercy Exhibitionism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt thing - "What a pretty blush." - Ana/Mercy, early overwatch days!

“What a pretty blush,” Ana purrs, voice pitched deep, eyes friendly and warm as they roam across Angela’s body. She looks gorgeous, sitting in the big chair behind Ana’s desk, skinny legs draped across the arms, showing off her pinkish cunt - spreading the plump lips with long fingers.

She’s only doing it for Ana’s benefit - because Ana asked her to do it - and the knowledge made her feel even more fond of her little pet; how she aimed to please even though it embarrassed her so horribly, blush getting deeper and more pronounced the longer Ana watches with interest.

“The door is not locked,” Ana says softly, leans against the side of the desk so Angela is in full view of the entrance. She smiles when Angela’s breath hitches and her little breasts bounce high on her chest. “You’re going to keep going, though, right? Even if it were to open? Would keep touching your little peach just for me?”

Angela bites her lips, eyes slanting away - demure and unsure just as much as shyly determined.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she whispers, blonde hair falling into her sweaty face. Her blush has reached her belly, and Ana knows, if she just plays with her peach long enough, it’ll become just as deliciously red and swollen.

“Start, baby girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	70. Zarya/Junkrat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh oh! Zarya x Junkrat: "Sneaky little one! When did you think of surprising me like this?"

“Sneaky little one! When did you think of surprising me like this?”

Junkrat starts immediately a shrill, manic giggle which he tries to stifle in the crook of one arm without much luck - it keeps bubbling out. Zarya smiles indulgently. Most of the sounds Junkrat makes were anything but pleasant but she loved knowing he was having fun, either way.

Especially when he was vulnerable like this; prosthetics shoved over the edge of the bed and out of sight; surprising her with his short, flailing limbs and naked, delectable body after he faux-fought with her over the blanket before letting her pull it away.

“You want me to play with you?” she coos, kneeling on the edge of the bed slowly. She grins when her boy immediately shrieks and kicks at her without intent of hurting, wriggling and pulling out of her lax grasp whenever she reaches for him.

He wants to play and she has more than enough time to indulge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	71. McCree/Hanzo Overstimulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/McCree + "Don't cover your face, I want to see you." + overstimulation/cryinggg

McCree was grunting with every sharp, rattling thrust, shaggy eyebrows drawn together in concentration, eyes slanting over to the side every now and then to watch the picture they made in the big mirror.

He had always liked watching himself fuck; he was hedonistic enough to flex his ass for his own benefit or reach up and tug at his own hair just for the sensation and to stare at the dark hair curling in his sweaty pit.

He knew how he looked and he found nothing wrong in enjoying that himself.

With Hanzo, he had another pretty thing to look at, though; especially now as he was helpless to take every twisting, grinding thrust McCree gave him, hands pathetically holding on to his own cock, face flushed and liquid eyes staring up at Jesse in dumb animal arousal.

He’d given Hanzo quite the rodeo already; fucked him on the fingers of his prosthetic hand, and then with a vibrator - just because he wanted to, and because he loved being able to take Hanzo whenever he wanted; in the communal showers, in the back of the chopper, on the roof of the base…

Hanzo never denied him.

He twists his hips again, watches Hanzo’s Adam’s apple bob, and grins sharply. “Gorgeous slut. You love taking cock, yeah? Bet you were real big hit with your goons back in the day. All of ‘em ridin’ the pretty little heir, right?”

Hanzo’s mouth fall opens, eyes widening. For a second he looks like he can’t understand how Jesse possibly could know… and then he flushes - actually fucking flushes in embarrassment and shyness and presses his hands in front of his face. Childish.

Jesse’s mouth becomes dry and his hips stutter to a stop. He is balls deep in the silky heat and can only stare at the tips of Hanzo’s burning ears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he croons when he finally finds his voice again, cock flexing in the tight confines and making Hanzo shiver beneath him. “Don’t cover your face. I want to see you. God damn little whore. Fuck yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	72. McCree/Hanzo Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why don't you make the two of us some tea?" + mchanzo/reaper76 + service kink/lingerie >:)

“Why don’t you make the two of us some tea?” Hanzo asks mildly, and watches with satisfaction as McCree’s face melts from uneasy apprehension into quiet, thankful bliss.

He nods and gets up from his knees, big hands with hairy knuckles smoothing down the front of the skirt of his little maid uniform. 

Hanzo sits at the window, like a lord, hair loose and yukata askew as he smokes his thin pipe and admires the view of McCree in the tiny kitchenette; how hulking his broad, bulky body looks as he handles the utensils and hums softly under his breath.

Nothing offensive - just a mindless tune that is just as ingrained in this ritual as Hanzo’s regal tranquility.

When Jesse comes back, he kneels next to Hanzo pretty as a flower, the saucer with teacup held in his hands.

“Thank you,” Hanzo murmurs and lifts the cup - lets McCree hold the saucer as long as it takes for him to finish enjoying the beverage. He thinks he’ll make McCree straighten the room a little after this. Maybe have him clean beneath the bed so his ass is in the air; easy for Hanzo to flip his skirt up and discover all anew that McCree was going commando beneath; cock and balls hanging freely for the taking.

Yes… A good way to spend a peaceful Sunday. He rather liked the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	73. McCree/Reaper CBT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did that hurt? Want Papi to make you feel better?” McReyes please?

Reyes slowly rounds his pet, the thud of his combat boots heavy and deliberate. Jesse is panting with an open mouth, drooling from the tip of his lolling tongue, body shaking and sweating.

His belly is still clenching every now and then, hard enough to make his back curve up. He hasn’t quite gotten over the instinctual need to curl up and shield himself, yet - but Reyes was quite sure he’ll soon get there. They all did, eventually.

When he crouches down in front of McCree, he can see him try and sneak a little glance up at him through the oily fringe of hair, before he jerks and looks down. A dog that learned his lesson not to aggravate his superior.

Reyes gently clucks with his tongue, big, rough hands cradling McCree’s face, lifting it up.

“Did that hurt? Want Papi to make you feel better?” he croons, thick fingers rubbing across Jesse’s cheekbones.

He can see the panic entering the almost vacant gaze; sluggish brain starting to work overtime as he tries to figure out what that might mean. He’s a quick learner, this new recruit.

McCree shifts, winces, stays carefully still. The humbler is holding his balls tightly in place; keeps them tight and presented for Reyes to play with, like, say, a slap of those very hands lovingly cupping the kid’s face.

For a second McCree looks like he’s going to break apart and start bawling - the simple question obviously too much for his overworked mind. When he finally whispers, “Yes, please, Papi,” his voice is cracking wildly like that of a teen.

Such a tender boy, still. A killer - but a lovable one.

Reyes smirks and gives him another rub of his thumb across his cheek before he leans down and presses a kiss against the corner of Jesse’s mouth.

“Good boy,” he breathes - and McCree vibrates with sudden pride and sick, fervent love, even as Reyes gets back up and rounds him again. He had to admit he was… fond, of the brat. He would be a good fighter. A loyal one.

When he crouches down behind Jesse once more, he realizes the boys cock is bobbing softly; chubbed and half-hard in nervous arousal. Oh… this was going to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	74. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I bet that hurt good, didn't it darling?" With Gabriel and Lúcio??

“I bet that hurt good, didn’t it, darling?” Lúcio croons, hand stroking warm and soothing across the spot he slapped once, sharp. Gabriel is restless, knees moving apart, unconsciously showing off the swell of his heavy balls between his thighs, then closing them up again to present a better canvas for Lúcio to lay into.

Truth be told, he was used to different kinds and levels of pain during scenes. Still, the sudden slap had been startling enough to have him yip like a god damn dog.

“Can you settle down better now?” Lúcio asks, one hand still cupping the tingling spot on the back of his thigh, the other firm and grounding on his neck - keeping him down where he was lying across Lúcio’s lap.

He’d been petulant again; throwing himself ill-tempered across the boy’s lap after he’d been asked a few times, thinking this was fucking stupid. He was towering across the kid and wouldn’t even really fit on his lap. It would look ridiculous, he would look ridiculous - and he was deathly allergic against getting made fun of.

Lúcio had taken his weight without complain and had let him squirm around, dig elbows into his sides and huff in exaggerated annoyance for about five minutes before the slap had come; sudden and unexpected and startling him into a marble-like stillness.

“Again?” Lúcio asks softly, the hand on the nape of Gabriel’s neck moving, sliding down the slope of his back before returning and gripping him again when Gabriel made a low, grunting sound of distress. “Shh. I got you. You want it again?”

Gabriel grunts. Lifts his ass. His face burns in embarrassment and he hates it. He hates that he feels so dumb and ridiculous and that tears are stinging at his eyelids from just one little baby slap. He’s had harder. A lot harder. He’s had things this little boy could never -

“You need to tell me with words. Do you want one more?”

He bites his lip bloody before exchanging it for the fabric of Lúcio’s bermuda shorts. (Always the same ridiculous fucking shorts.) Lúcio let him and waited patiently for his answer.

Gabriel finally caves, spitting out his answer like a curse.

“Yes. Please. Fuck.” He curses just for good measure. Lúcio chuckles and lifts his hand again.

“Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	75. Soldier76/Reaper Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the fic starts reaper76 "Come sit in my lap, pet." Please.
> 
> Anonymous said: “ “Come sit in my lap, pet.” with reaper and morrison and milky tiddies plssss uwu”
> 
> Anonymous said: “ “Come sit in my lap, pet.” Reaper76, sub!Reaper”

“Come sit in my lap, pet.” 

Jack was waving him closer with a hand, sitting a little straighter to show off the broad seat of his thighs.

Gabriel, in response, pulled his lips back from his teeth and honest to god snarled at him. He hunched his back, arms sullenly around his chest, protecting the swollen pecs. They looked full. Ripe. Jack’s mouth watered at the sight and he wondered why the hell Gabriel was being an obtuse little shit this time.

Sometimes, Gabriel didn’t need any reason, unfortunately.

“Come,” he says again, the smile from his face and his voice, eyes stern. Gabriel sneers back, the look in his eyes feverish and hateful before something changes and he practically squirms on the spot - suddenly shy.

The explosion of the base had damaged more than just his body. He was a volatile mix that Jack was too addicted to let go.

When he comes over, he does so with the air of a kicked puppy; slides into his lap with eyes big and brown - just like the nipples he offers up sweetly; holds one right in front of his waiting, greedy mouth.

“That’s better,” Jack rumbles. He can already smell the milk through Gabriel’s skin. “Good boy,” he purrs and holds him close; lets him carefully place his whole weight onto Jack’s thighs while he noses his way close; acquaints himself with those lovely tits again by licking the fat, swollen nipples before gently suckling them into his mouth.

Gabriel is nearly silent above him; only harsh breaths ruffling the hair on top of Jack’s head, big, muscled arms curled around his neck in an almost choke hold.

When he finally takes a drag and the first spray of watery milk fills his mouth, both of them jerk in surprise and need. Gabriel becomes heavier and more sweet the longer Jack nurses; cooing in low, gentle Spanish, hips rocking, eagerly offering the other tit when Jack has drunk his fill from the first one.

“Sweet pet,” Jack praises him roughly, milkdrunk and sated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	76. McCree/Hanzo Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shh, I'm going to keep you safe." Mchanzo?

McCree eases the thumb off the button and hooks one arm around Hanzo’s chest, pulling him up - helping him ride out the shock of the seizing muscles.

“Shh,” he whispers into his ear, nosing stray strands of hair out of the way, “I’m going to keep you safe.”

It was maybe horrible of him to say it; especially considering what he was doing to Hanzo, but… it did have the desired effect: Hanzo calming down and carefully uncurling his cramped fingers. Jesse listens to him take a rattling, shuddering breath and presses a kiss against his sweaty temple before raising the baton again, pressing the tip into Hanzo’s side.

The man jerks preemptively, breath hitching audibly, hips jerking with his cock slapping wet and swollen against his lower belly - then Jesse pushes the button and the seizing starts all over again.

Hanzo is nearly silent as his muscles shiver out of his control. His head gets thrown back against Jesse’s shoulder. Foam starts building at the corners of his mouth, and Jesse coos at him the whole time - keeps him hugged tightly to his body while pressing the baton against his side.

“I got you,” he croons at him, hand travelling lower, taking a hold of Hanzo’s cock. He stops the stream of electricity just as abruptly as he started it. “I got you. Good boy. Yes, that’s a good boy right there.”

Hanzo has no control over his body. He is helpless to Jesse’s every whim and can only whine softly in the back of his throat when Jesse starts to jerk him off.

“Good boy,” he repeats, low and harsh, voice full of affection as he presses kisses against the side of Hanzo’s sweaty face and lets him come into the warm cup of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	77. Hanzo/Genji Oviposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shh, don't cry. It'll all be over soon. Now keep counting." shimadacest oviposition? :3

“Shh, don’t cry. It’ll all be over soon.” Genji is cupping Hanzo’s face, thumbs wiping at the copious tear tracks running down his cheeks. 

Hanzo is panting, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth, little sounds of strain spilling from his throat as he tries to bear down again but has to stop after just a few seconds. Genji lets him calm down for a moment or two, then wipes away sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. “Now keep counting.”

It is a way of keeping Hanzo focused on the task at hand, if nothing else. He looks uncomfortably gorgeous squatting naked in the bathroom, body shivering, a small clutch of secret, illicit eggs already in the makeshift towel nest Genji had built there.

“F-F-F-Five,” Hanzo stutters out, hands clutching claw-like at Genji’s upper arms as he squeezes his eyes shut and starts bearing down, face getting red with strain and embarrassment.

Genji pets his head and rubs his arms and can only watch in dumb, excited amazement how his brother’s cock bobs hard and needy between his spread thighs. The tip barely peeks out of the foreskin, smooth balls drawn up tight towards his body. What Genji wants to do most of all is suck it into his mouth; slurp up his brother’s pre-cum.

While he stares, another blue-and-green speckled egg drops into the nest. Fuck, but they wouldn’t be able to hide the identity of the parents if anybody got a hold of the eggs - and even if that made the dragon rumble and stretch in possessive delight, Genji felt a little light-headed with fear.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers to Hanzo. “You almost got it.”

His belly was as good as flat again; the tight muscles working visibly to help expell the last of the eggs Genji had laid into him. He immediately missed the little bump that had been there the past weeks, but he supposed Hanzo would not agree to a mounting without condom any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	78. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LucioReaper: "You're so beautiful, all spread out like this, just for me."
> 
> Anonymous said: “ What if Lúcio was actually packing some SERIOUS HEAT in his pants that no one expected since he’s so short. Then when Gabriel sees it for the first time his immediate gut response is just “Oh God I want that inside me”… but then Lúcio’s quite FIRM in bed and not letting him just ride that disco stick, since he doesn’t want Reaper accidentally hurting himself. Cue the most long, intense, gentle prep session and Gabe’s left whimpering in a daze because he didn’t know it could be like THAT.”

Coming to the kid after work has become somewhat of an upsetting regular. Upsetting, because Gabriel liked it. He liked thinking about getting back to the airy loft after a day spent in the shop and getting hugged and squeezed by Lúcio no matter how loud he growled or how rudely he shoved him away after a couple of seconds of soaking in the affection.

He liked thinking about Lúcio having cooked something exotic and asking him to kneel and feeding him while his newest half-finished mixtape ran in the background.

He liked thinking about it because it made him calm when his coworkers drove him up a wall - and when he thought about it when he was alone in his flat (which was rare these days) or just sitting and breathing, he felt anxious and jittery and like everything spun too fast.

He’s had his phone in hand with the intention of breaking it off (quick and dirty with a stupid text message) more often than he liked to admit. He always put it away before he could type and went back to Lúcio anyway. The kid was a drug. He was… kind. He supposed that was the best word to describe him. 

Kind.

Gabriel… liked him.

.o.

The realization that he hadn’t seen Lúcio naked even after weeks of them… playing? Being… together?… had only really hit him when he came home to the kid coming fresh out of the shower and with a towel around his hips.

Gabriel had not let anything show, but he’d been troubled with how downright pretty the brat was. The white of the fabric had only accentuated the warm, brown skin stretched across tight, pretty muscles. 

And maybe he had followed the kid. Maybe he had followed him into his bedroom like a fucking puppy because he’d been plain curious.

In the end, he couldn’t say whether it had been a good idea because seeing Lúcio’s cock, if even just for a couple seconds, had opened up a whole new section of self-doubt.

Why was the kid holding himself back? Why hadn’t he even tried fucking Gabriel with what was one of the most gorgeous cocks he’d ever seen? Was Gabriel not his type after all? Was he just playin’?

Why was he not fucking him??

.o.

“Oh,” Lúcio said softly, blinking, fingers still on the handle of the bedroom door. After a second of just taking in the scene before him he starts beaming.

“Well aren’t you a pretty sight?” He comes closer, watching Gabriel naked and spread out, one big fist around his cock, slowly jerking off, face set into his usual grim scowl.

Lúcio found it endearing how someone could look pissed off while pleasuring himself.

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out like this…” He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out, fingers tracing the big muscles in Gabriel’s thighs. “Is that just for me?”

Gabriel’s face looks more pinched for a moment, dark eyes flitting away. “Yes,” he grits out, ill-tempered and grouchy. Lúcio can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. Gabriel has never surprised him like this; offered up his wonderful body for Lúcio; showing off how pretty he was.

And maybe he said some of these things aloud because Gabriel turns his head to the side and bites his lip, hand squeezing his cock like he wants to strangle it.

He isn’t protesting, though.

“Did you want to show me how gorgeous you are?” Lúcio croons, his hand on Gabriel’s thigh now, just feeling how it flexes beneath his touch - watching him slowly move his fist. “You are a very handsome man… I’m very happy to have you all to myself-”

“Why aren’t you fuckin’ me, then?”

It breaks out of Gabriel all of a sudden, and both of them are quiet for a few seconds, staring at each other, stunned.

Gabriel takes his hand away from his cock and carefully flexes his hand like it hurts now. He’s not looking at Lúcio.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

So sullen again. Moping as he wants to curl up and turn on his side; a gentle touch to his hip stays him, and Lúcio wonders like so often if Gabriel even knows how good of a submissive he is; sweet and responsive to Lúcio’s every demand, even if he likes to make things difficult every once in a while.

“I just like pampering you.”

“So you don wanna fuck me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Now he looks confused as well as hurt, and Lúcio crawls up on the bed, nudges between Gabriel’s thighs and rubs up and down the corded muscles.

“I want to go slow. I want to pamper my pretty boy until you’re a sweet, little mess for me. I want it to be something really special.” He watches Gabriel’s face go dark - not with anger but embarrassment. He notices how his cock is still gorgeous and big; flexing when Lúcio calls him ‘my pretty boy’. 

He leans down and rubs his cheek against the warm cock, presses a suckling kiss to the tip. Gabriel groans low and wrecked.

“And I want you to really beg for it,” he admits against the coarse thatch of pubic hair, then starts tongueing the very base of Gabriel’s cock because he knows it drives him mad.

He lets him mull it over for a minute or two; busying himself with pressing suckling kisses against the soft skin of Gabriel’s testicles, before he finally sits up and pats at those wide, gorgeous hips.

“C’mon. Since you’re already naked… why don’t you show me the rest of your pretty body? Let me see what a good boy you are…”

And it is when Gabriel slowly curls fingers around the backs of his thighs that he murmurs “Yes, Sir” low and indistinct - like he hopes Lúcio will not hear it.

“Oh yeah?” Lúcio rasps, belly going hot with need, “That’s how it is? Little boy gets promised dick and suddenly he finds his manners?”

Gabriel screws his eyes shut and groans. It’s small and breathy but it’s there and it makes Lúcio feel on top of the world as he watches the other man pull up his legs, knees nearly at his chest, offering himself up on a fucking silver platter.

“I’ll need to keep that in mind, won’t I?” He lets his hands rub along the backs of Gabriel’s thick thighs, fingers dancing into the cleft of his ass just to watch him squirm and how his face becomes very soft and needy. “How greedy you are for cock. You miss getting fucked, pretty boy?”

Gabriel bites his lip again, but this time he can’t keep in the honest to god sob, eyes glassy and huge. He looks vulnerable with his knees up to his chin and his tender hole clenching shy and beneath Lúcio’s petting fingers. He looks like he’s going to start bawling any second now, and Lúcio feels like there’s more to this whole thing - just like there’s always more to everything concerning this man.

He wonders if it is one of the things he’ll be able to broach later on or if Gabriel will block him out.

“Maybe you want me to buy you some toys? Have you play with them for me? Show me how you like to get fucked so I know exactly how to treat my pet when I decide you have earned the real thing?”

Gabriel’s hips jerk at that; one powerful wave that has all those muscles flexing and clenching and Lúcio’s mouth run dry.

“Guess that is a ‘yes’,” he murmurs, fingers feeling clammy with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	79. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 5

“You know… it’s Saturday tomorrow.”

Gabriel grunts in affirmation, eyes on the news on the TV. Lúcio shifts a little on his lap and starts scratching idle fingers through the short curling hair on top of his head. Weeks ago, Gabriel had been confused by the kid’s constant need to touch without it being sexual. By now he takes it in stride - and maybe enjoys it a little, too.

“You could sleep here,” Lúcio ventures. “I can make you breakfast. Like… get it to you in bed and shit.”

Gabriel becomes still for a moment, eyes still fixed on the TV, hands carefully loose at his sides. Lúcio squirms on his lap, lifting his head from where he put it on Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’d like that, right? I could feed you if you like? Get you the paper or something?”

Gabriel could feel himself flush slowly from the pit of his belly, the heat crawling up his chest.

Truth is, he kinda would like that. He can almost see himself - head in the kid’s lap after getting wrangled into it, letting him feed him bites of whatever he put together. He feels Lúcio’s eyes on him, and when he flicks his gaze over, the kid is right up his grill, staring. 

“Geezus,” he hisses, head jerking away, eyebrows drawing together into a fierce scowl. “We’ll see,” he grunts. Lúcio smirks and lowers his head towards Gabriel’s shoulder once more, hand idly stroking along his jaw, scritching at his goatee, and finally idly tracing the scar on his cheek up to the gash across the bridge of his nose and back again.

It is a thing he likes to do, and while Gabriel has nearly dislocated his wrist the first time he had touched, it has become somewhat of a comfort by now. Enough to make him slump down and rearrange the kid on his lap. He feels stupidly fond when Lúcio purrs: “Good boy.”

.oOo.

Gabriel stared at the short, polished blade the guy presented to him and felt his pulse jump in nervous excitement.

“You like that?” The man asked him, lifting the dagger up until it was right in Gabriel’s face to show him the way the murky light reflected off the blade.

“I… think so, yes. We can definitely try.” Fuck, but he wanted to try that real bad. His cock was chubbing up from the thought of getting nicked by the shiny, sharp metal.

“Yeah, I knew you’d say that,” the man cooed, “Could see you were a pain slut all across the room.”

Gabriel flushed and refused to pull his shoulders up to his ears. He wasn’t sure if he liked this kind of talk, but didn’t want to put a damper in so soon; it’s been the first time one of the guys talking to him had taken him home, and he was more than eager to finally try some of the stuff he’d only been nervously fantasizing about.

“Neat. Okay, then-”

“Not the face,” he quickly blurted out and curled fingers into nervous fists when the guy blinked and frowned. “You can do my chest and… and back. Not the face.”

“My, my… aren’t we a scared little girl. Okay, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Gabriel’s belly burned with resentment and his cheeks felt hot, but his cock was still all on board: pulsing in his underwear and making him slowly more uncomfortable.

“Any other fears, princess?”

Gabriel’s face hardened in determination and he stared fixedly at the man’s chest. “No.” And then, after a moment of debating: “What’s your name?”

“You’ll call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. Oh, you’ll be fun, I can tell. Baby whores like you are always fun to break in. Come, now. We’re going to play. I’m going to make it so good for you.”

.o.

The thing is, it had been good. Scary, but good.

He’s had problems calling the stranger ‘Master’ and tried it with ‘Sir’ instead but even then he got told that his attitude was shit.

‘I’m doing something for you, whore. I can get a lot prettier subs than you. You need to work for it, right?’ And he did want to work for it. It was why he considered this lifestyle in the first place, after all; why it had intrigued him so much.

He kind of wanted to get pushed around and told what to do by another person. In his head, it always had seemed sort of nice.

In reality, he didn’t like the way Sir talked to him. He had him kneel on the floor and bow his head and make himself small, and told him how lucky he was to have found a dom like him.

“People don’t usually go for the big, burly subs - but I like ‘em. They’re more desperate, y’know? They suck cock like they need it to live and don’t cry around too much. You don’t cry, do you?” And even before he parsed the question, there had been a booted foot kicking him in the side - not too hard, but enough to startle an ‘oof’ out of him, head snapping up to stare at his assailant, only to get it roughly pushed back down by a big hand. “Naw, you’re no crier, I can see that. Good boy.”

Warmth filled his head at the praise, the tips of his ears pounding with blood. Oh, wow…

–

There wasn’t a lot of praise, unfortunately, which made the few crumbs thrown his way even better and more addicting.

He wasn’t sure if he liked getting called names, but his cock was on board the whole time so he figured it was okay. Everything was new and overwhelming, after all.

“Fuck. You got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen. Holy shit,” Sir exclaimed behind him, his hands around Gabriel’s hips after urging him to lift up on his knees and ‘show off the goods’. Gabriel’s toes curled and he felt a little nauseous with embarrassment at hearing him say that.

“At least you’re good for getting fucked, hm? If nothing else works out, you can at least sell that huge ass of yours. God damn.”

He liked slapping him as he fucked; a steady rain of progressively harder hits against Gabriel’s thighs and cheeks that soon had him feel a stinging burn that made him squirm and try to get away until Sir hissed at him to ‘stand fucking still’.

It felt good, pleasure mounting dizzyingly fast, but Gabriel still bit his knuckles bloody in an attempt to remain as silent as possible. He was not sure what constituted as being a cry baby, and he sure as hell didn’t want Sir to finish before he had gotten off. He felt like slapping and spanking was definitely something he liked. Definitely. Absolutely.

Sir was miffed with him that he had come without permission but let him get away with it because “You’re just a newbie and I hadn’t thought of it. Next time you’ll have to ask.”

He didn’t like the condescension but it was softened by the afterglow of what had been one of the hardest orgasms in his life, and the fact that there would be a ‘next time’.

Sir hadn’t even pulled the short blade out during that first session, and Gabriel felt stupidly reassured because of it. Sir would obviously go easy on him since he was new at all of it - as he liked to remind him with an air of annoyance.

.o.

“Come on. Come on. Watch the teeth damn you!”

Gabriel jerked when Sir’s palm connected with his forehead and pushed him away from his cock, drool connecting the tip with his bottom lip. He was gulping in huge breaths, trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible before Sir forced him back down. His throat was burning, heart pounding in his chest like a rabbit’s.

Sir didn’t force him back down, however - he just sat there with a scowl on his face and his cheek against his fist.

“You’re too stupid to suck cock. I can’t believe it. How can you be so bad at it with a cock sucker mouth like that?”

Gabriel’s belly felt like it was clenching into a fist, cold and painful, the hair on the back of his neck standing up in protest at the harsh words even though his cock jumped hopefully - already trained to associate Sir’s pissy attitude with an incoming fuck.

“I’ve never deepthroated…” he mutters and jerks back at the sudden, harsh slap to the cheek (and, oh, how he loves and hates it - cock eagerly drooling a bead of pre-cum).

“Are you for real? Fuck, but you’re one high maintenance bitch. Do I have to show you everything?”

Gabriel looked to the side, slowly licking his lips as his head spun. He was not… stupid. He was not. He usually was very good at putting people in their place, but as soon as he stepped inside Sir’s home, everything of that… of him… seemed to disappear. It was difficult to form coherent thoughts, anything that made sense, anything that could help him defend himself against the verbal abuse.

“It’s alright. Don’t cry,” Sir murmured, suddenly concerned, voice pitched low and soothing, and it sent Gabriel spinning even faster, his eyes huge, mouth hanging open wordlessly as he stared up, caught like a rabbit in front of the snake - and all the while his cock was fucking hard and pounding insistently, flexing when Sir pet him with a big hand across his head.

“Come. I’ll show you. No need to be upset.”

Gabriel let himself get pulled forward once more, a whine stuck in his throat, feeling vulnerable and exposed and so thankful for Sir’s gentleness as he taught him how to take his cock.

.o.

“Come on, useless slut. Work it. God, do I have to do all the work?” He slaps Gabriel’s thigh and jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into him. Gabriel’s eyes widen, a cry stuck in his throat as he stretches that little bit farther around the base of Sir’s cock, his sweaty hands scrabbling for purchase at Sir’s chest until the man hisses and slaps his cock, fingers catching the sensitive head harshly and knocking the breath straight out of Gabriel’s lungs.

He sits there, the pain from his burning anus fading in the face of the pain pounding in his cock, a wave of nausea swamping through his body. For a second utter panic seizes him as he thinks he has to vomit - but it thankfully abates.

“Stupid cunt, that fuckin’ hurt. Don’t touch me without permission. Fuck!”

Gabriel stares down, watches in dismay as red lines slowly start spreading across his dom’s chest where he scratched him in his surprise about the new stretch.

“I’m… sorry,” he murmurs and hates himself for how small he sounds - and how his throat feels scratchy and clogged up. Like he’s close to crying. He thinks distantly how just yesterday he’d been guffawing with his pals at the shop; how they sat around swapping stories when nothing was there to be worked on, and how comfortable he had felt being there because the others were respecting him. Maybe feared him a little with his gruff exterior. It had felt really, really good.

Now, right here, sitting on this man’s cock and close to bawling, it felt unbelievably far away - like the Gabriel Reyes that was still in apprenticeship and yet had the respect of his more experienced co-workers was a totally different person to the one stepping foot into the apartment of this man whose real name he’d only found out by secretly looking into his wallet.

“Why does everything have to be so difficult with you? You’re not that great of a fuck. Being a sub means you got to service me, right? Not the other way round. So get to work, stupid shit.”

.o.

“Hmmm.”

Gabriel turns his head even though he is blindfolded, following the soft hum of Sir. He sounds disappointed and the fear the sound immediately evokes makes him sick to his stomach. He has done nothing but obey this time - stripped himself bare without protest and laid down on the filthy carpet Sir put out for their play times.

“We haven’t really talked about your body yet, pet.” Gabriel relaxes a bit at the petname, a hopeful flush spreading across his shoulder blades while he hides his face against the ground. He feels Sir’s boot between his ankles and spreads them eagerly at the first nudge; showing off his body willingly. He is preening silently, eager for Sir’s approval.

He was still building up muscle, hitting the gym whenever time allowed, and finally the lankiness of youth was starting to give way to a thicker build.

“I kinda picked you because I figured you’d have a big cock, but…” Again, there is the tip of a boot. It’s cold and smooth against the side of Gabriel’s knee, urging him to spread his legs even farther. Gabriel realizes with a nervous jump of his Adam’s Apple that Sir was wearing boots with metal caps.

“No tattoos, no piercings, no nothin’.” He is towering over Gabriel by now, one foot next to his hip, the other between his thighs. Gabriel is breathing fast and silent against the dusty rug, sweat springing up on the crown of his head.

Still, his cock is eager as always - even when he can feel the cold tip of Sir’s boot nudge against the swollen, ripe sack of his testicles.

“You’re an eager slut, you got that working for you. Never saw a guy with an ass like yours. It’s like fucking a cadillac. Kinda luxurious to be honest.”

Gabriel feels embarrassment gnaw up his throat and grits his teeth so he wouldn’t make a sound. The tips of his ears burn and he clenches his eyes shut, hips carefully moving to rub his fattening cock against the rough surface of the mat.

“Show me your cunt, babe.”

And how could he not? It’s been weeks since he started this thing with Sir, and while he did recognize, purely intellectual, that this wasn’t an ideal relationship, that something was distinctly off, he couldn’t place his finger on why because he obviously enjoyed it, didn’t he?

He was always hard and wanting; always came at the end of the day, even if his body hurt or he was hating himself for letting himself get debased the way Sir did.

Though being a Submissive meant just that… didn’t it?

The boot pressing down on his cock jerked him out of his thoughts, breath hitching in his throat, fear trickling down cold and numbing right into his belly.

“Show it to me. Move, stupid shit.”

Gabriel does move, hands reaching back, pulling his cheeks apart even though he doesn’t want to; feels vulnerable in a not-fun way, cock actually going soft for once beneath the threat of the heavy boot pressing down painfully.

“Yeah… that’s it. Stay.”

He stays as Sir starts rounding him, appraising his body, nudging - gently kicking - his sides, his ribs, against his temples and finishing between his thighs where he steps on his cock with an unrelenting, slowly increasing pressure that has Gabriel clench his teeth so hard it hurts, eyes bulging from their sockets, bladder close to giving up.

“You’re pretty enough,” Sir says, ignoring the low, pained groans coming from Gabriel. “But your junk really is disappointing. Here I was looking for some BBC and you got the most average lookin’ dick I’ve ever seen. What the fuck.”

Gabriel, in his mindless animal panic was just about to apologize for it - for his inferior cock - when Sir moved, kicking him in the balls with the steel caps of his boots with an almost gentleness as if done out of sheer, petulant boredom but strong enough to have Gabriel scream after a second of sensory overload, body curling up into a tight ball, hands between his thighs and nausea making him near blind.

.o.

Gabriel was sweating uncomfortably, pulse thrumming quick and scared in his throat. Sir had bound him tightly on his knees, arms held together by handcuffs behind his back, and Gabriel had no idea how it had come to this.

He didn’t trust Sir to undo the handcuffs if (when) he needed to ask for it. He was, for better or for worse, absolutely vulnerable.

“I… I have a safeword,” he rasped, fingers curling into helpless fists behind his back. Sir looked up sharply from the utensils he had strewn out across his bed, eyebrows drawn up high on his forehead.

“What for?”

Gabriel can just huff, looking up at Sir, pleading with his gaze. Inside he was screaming at himself why he was being a stupid asshole and not fucking telling him that he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him and that he wanted out of the cuffs immediately. His head started swimming again.

His cock was hard and he had no idea why. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

“You don’t need a safeword, pet,” Sir told him, not unkindly. He talks to him like he is a small, dumb child and Gabriel feels close to crying again because he enjoys it. It makes him feel protected. Like he doesn’t need to worry about anything.

Sir lets his work lie on the bed and comes over; squats so he is on eye-level with Gabriel and holds his face in warm, big hands.

“You don’t need a safeword because you’re my good boy, aren’t you? You’re no cry baby. You know how much I hate them, right?” Gabriel bites his tongue, hard, and nods slowly. Sir smiles at him and looks so proud, Gabriel feels breathless, and good, and perfect. He’d say yes to anything in that moment.

“And now,” Sir says, eyes drifting down, watching the eager curve of Gabriel’s cock, hard and needy, “I like some jewelry on my boys, and I think your cock can use some help, really. So I got you some piercings. Sound good?”

Gabriel nods before the words even properly reach his head.

“Good. I got something to help you with being loud while I work.”

And then comes the gag - and then the pain.

.o.

Gabriel had to take the rest of his vacation days for the whole year in order to bounce back from the piercings and give his body time to heal.

Sir didn’t let him go during the time - he was concerned about his well-being. He actually let him sleep most of the time, making sure he was hydrated, bringing him food, cleaning the ladder piercings down his cock and the ones in his nipples.

He told him the whole time how pretty he was, calling him his gorgeous boy.

–

Thankfully, the piercings heal well, and Gabriel finds himself unable to say anything when Sir ruffles his head and tells him “Looks good now, doesn’t it? No need to cry.”

.o.

Gabriel would never be able to say why this was the thing that finally shook him out of the self-destructive circle of misery-fear-cautious, addictive happiness:

Sir hadn’t taken out the knife since that first night. He had been drinking - not enough to make him piss his pants and stumble around, but enough to get Gabriel to jerk back from him when he steps closer, dagger in hand, blade glinting.

The movement was small, contained, but enough to get the other man furious, stepping up and gripping the short curls on top of Gabriel’s head with one hand, the other pressing the blade flat against Gabriel’s cheek, the tip right underneath his right eye.

“Are you afraid?” Sir hissed, seemingly vibrating out of his skin, and Gabriel wonders whether he’s taken something else as well. He doesn’t dare to speak, just thinks wildly: I said not the face. Not the face.

“I can see you’re afraid. Fucking pussy. Fucking stupid piece of shit. I’ll give you something to be afraid of. God damn it! I’m going to cut your fucking eyes out. Slice your nose off. Fuck your god damn useless head through the hole.

You stupid, worthless cunt!” he screams the last word, voice shrill and cracking, hand drawing back abruptly as if wanting to slap him and taking the first long slice down Gabriel’s cheek.

It finally jerks Gabriel out of his stupor.

.o.

He fingers the scars from the scuffle that ensued whenever he is thinking hard about something.

He never thinks about Sir or the time some ten or fifteen years ago.

.oOo.

“What the fuck are you wearing,” he groans, eyeing the apron Lúcio is wearing as he knee-walks onto the bed, carefully balancing a tray. Gabriel tugs the blanket up a little higher, not bothering to turn around on his back, and indulges in watching the kid.

Lúcio is, as ever with his wardrobe, not phazed in the least.

“I don’t want to get my stuff dirty, ya feel? Come on, come on… I got you somethin’ from everything because you refused to tell me what you like, pal. Damn, this is heavy.”

Gabriel grunts and stays for a minute or two just for good measure - just so it doesn’t seem like he is too eager to follow Lúcio’s urging. The kid, as always, lets him do his weird shit and just rearranges stuff how he wants it to be while he waits.

When Gabriel finally slides over, feigning listlessness, Lúcio’s fingers immediately dive into his short hair and scratch at his scalp, the other one smoothing over his beard and straightening the hair.

“Good morning, good boy-o.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Lúcio cackles and thumbs his cheek affectionately. “You got it. Good boy it is, then. My good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	80. McCree/Reaper Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fam this has been stuck in my head all day and I'm pretty sure you'll appreciate it: little Blackwatch McCree, thinking he's hot shit but everyone knows he's just looking for Gabriel's approval. Gabe finally gets this little brat under him and is fucking delighted to discover that when he pounds Jesse hard enough he cries and calls him Daddy. Gabe fucks up against his prostate in short little thrusts just to listen to Jesse howl and to tell him he's not allowed to cum till Daddy says so

“Calm the fuck down, kid. Jesus.” 

Gabriel leans forward, big hands sliding beneath McCree’s jittery hips to get a good grip at his ass. It still was a little too lean for his tastes; they still had to fatten the kid up from his life in Deadlock, but they were getting there. At least enough to squeeze and get a good grope in.

“Ridiculous. Did you fuck the ladies like that? Can’t imagine that went over too well…” He watches McCree’s face darken in a flush and chuckles, broad finger inching over, rubbing against the tender little muscle he finds. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Didn’t appreciate your hyperactive ass. That’s fine: I can teach ya. Just like in training, right? Just follow my lead.”

The kid stares at him, eyes big, mouth - that ever talking, ever laughing fucking mouth that Reyes had wanted to slap more times than he liked to admit - finally not making any sound at all. It’s just hanging open a little.

He wonders what part of his statement had finally gotten McCree’s attention. His slim hips are lying heavy and relaxed in Gabriel’s hands and when he pulls him roughly down to lay them on his lap - have better access at everything the kid had to offer - McCree didn’t try to ‘help’ again. Just followed his lead, docile and relaxed.

“Just like in trainin’,” he whispers before Gabriel can wonder if something is wrong and they need to actually talk. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ like in trainin’. Just follow you, Commander.”

.o.

McCree is loud in bed. It doesn’t surprise Reyes. Annoys him a little, maybe, but doesn’t surprise him. His ear is ringing where McCree has put his mouth next to, clinging to his shoulders, not letting him go again after Reyes made the fatal mistake of leaning down to gently bite at McCree’s shoulder.

He could disentangle himself - but doesn’t.

The base already knows McCree is hot for his cock - it’s not changing anything that they can make sure now that without a doubt, yes, Jesse McCree was a slut for his Commander. To the contrary: it was flattering.

“Like that, do you? Bit of a size queen, McCree?” he purrs, hips flexing, cock dragging in the wet, hot clutch of that sweet little muscle he’d been petting earlier. McCree whines high and pathetic, twists his hips, tries to start up with his nervous little jackrabbit movements and gurgles on a groan when Reyes immediately reaches for him and pins him back down.

He needs to be reminded to stay where he is, every now and then - to let him take care of the actual dicking part.

“Yes, D-Daddy.”

His hips, moving in piston-like, slow, agonizing precision - stutter, slow down, halt.

He lifts his head, straining against the clutching arms of the kid, and peers down at him.

McCree grins back - broad and shit-eating, eyes glassy, dots of nervous color spreading on his cheeks. They stare at each other a beat longer, before Reyes starts grinning; can feel it stretch across his face sharp and shark like.

“Yes?” he rumbles, pushes back in with a twist of his hips, feeling himself rub against warm, giving walls; feels McCree’s weeping, sleek cock bump against the sweaty ridges of his belly. “You’re a freak like that, McCree?”

He pulls out, then snaps back in on a different angle. He watches McCree’s eyes snap open, mouth dropping from its false-bravado nervous grin into an ‘o’ of surprised pleasure.

Gabriel chuckles. Cackles. His belly is on fire and he pushes up onto his hands, getting out of McCree’s lax grip easy; ranges above him and stares down as he keeps fucking into that same, sweet space, watching McCree’s face flush with a whole ‘nother flush, eyes filling with tears, throat working around sounds that are suddenly cut off.

Jesse stares at him, eyes roaming. Reverent. He looks like he’s about to have a stroke, staring at his Commander’s sweaty, heaving body, muscles in stark relief as he fucks - and Reyes thinks he can get used to that. Fucking his newest fan.

“Yes… fuck… Daddy.” McCree has suddenly found his voice back, hands coming up, curling tight around his biceps. He’s hiccuping with every of Gabriel’s thrusts now, cock bouncing, slapping against his belly and the too thick treasure trail he probably groomed into the impossible thatch that it was.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy, please!” He’s howling, whining, begging, staring up at Gabriel and scratching up his arms because he keeps loosing purchase on the slick skin as he’s getting fucked.

Gabriel grins at him. Leans down - rasps right in his face: “Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	81. McCree/Hanzo/Reaper Tentacles

They’ve been out in the field for two days, sitting listlessly around the crates, keeping watch for Talon agents. McCree, who’d been all for the subterfuge - had been, in fact, the first to volunteer going on the mission - was no longer sure it even worked. Maybe Talon was a lot smarter than they gave them credit for; or they were a lot dumber and had been too naive thinking it would work: sowing out carefully laid information about a huge shipment of weapons and ammunition, then proceeding to sit it out on the edges of a small Mexican town.

Nobody had come yet.

He shifts his seat on one of the crates and groans at the pain in his back. He wasn’t that young anymore, apparently. He pushes his hat back from his face and peers blearily up at the moon. It was their last night before Tracer and Reinhardt were to come to transport the ‘precious cargo’ to its next destination.

His hand shifts from the broad brim of his hat down to his ear. He pushes the communicator, opening up the private line to Hanzo.

“How’s it looking up there? Anything suspicious?”

“Nothing. The people have retreated to their homes half an hour ago and only the occasional straggler can be seen.”

McCree hums and sits a little straighter, makes it a point to open is eyes wide and roll his shoulders just to shake off the sleep creeping up on him.

“You think anybody gonna be mad if we were to sneak off for half an hour?”

“You flatter yourself.”

Hanzo’s answer is clipped, but McCree can hear a certain note of amusement - dare he say playfulness - in the words. He takes the ribbing good naturedly.

“Ah hell, darlin’. Don’t tease. Y’know I was awfully embarrassed ‘bout that. You’re just too gorgeous, sometimes - beggin’ for cock and showin’ off those pretty tits like that…”

He’s waiting for a response, idly flicking the tips of his boots to make his spurs jingle. Time stretches with nothing but the slowly softening heat pressing down on him. When he’s counted to hundred without a response, he finds himself wondering whether he offended Hanzo. He is pretty sure he hadn’t, given Hanzo’s penchant for indulging in McCree’s dirty mouth, but one could never be too certain with the archer.

He presses against the communicator again, listening for the soft static indicating the line opening up once more.

“You okay? Didn’t fall asleep on the job while gettin’ serenaded by yours truly, now, didja?” No answer, just the almost ocean-like quality of the static in his ear, making the hair on his arms stand up. Or was that the strange feeling creeping up on him? He sits straighter, righting the hat to clear his vision and tries to peek up as inconspicuously as possible at the house he last saw Hanzo nimbly scale up a couple hours ago.

There is nothing to be seen; not even the flap of the soft, yellow scarf above the rim of the flat roof.

He starts counting in his head again - a little quicker this time, brows drawn, hand inching towards Peacekeeper without a target in sight. Still, it calms him to feel the familiar broad shape of the weapon against his palm.

The communicator springs to life even before he reaches fifty this time.

“Mc… Jesse! I-” Hanzo’s voice is garbled and barely intelligible, half due to the sudden patchy contact of the line, and half due to the fact that Hanzo had sounded like he was choking.

“What the…” McCree is up on his feet within the second, Peacekeeper in hand, chest feeling tight with nervous anticipation of an unseen attack.

Lifting his gaze openly without worrying about their cover, it is not hard to make out the location of the ambush: Straight above him he can see it crawling over the edges of the rooftop. A weirdly thick mist wafting out before pulling back in again, making it look like it was almost… pulsing. Living.

Now that he is listening for it, he can hear faint sounds from up above - the scrape of metal against stone, faint grunts of exertion. The sound of Hanzo’s prosthetics dragging across the rooftop as he fights against whoever… whatever had silently snuck up on them.

How, though? How could this have happened? As he scans for the fastest way to scale the building, he slams his hand hard enough against his ear to jam the communicator painfully deep into his auditory canal.

“Will be there in a sec. Hang in there, partner.”

And as he takes a running leap towards the low ledge of a balcony, he feels like there is an answer crawling out of the earpiece: a sinuous, soft voice, deep enough to make him doubt it was even real, laughing at him.

“This will be fun,” it purrs and Jesse almost slips in his mad scramble up the dilapidated side of the squat building, the wet sound of Hanzo choking in the back of his mind.

.o.

For the first few moments it almost physically hurts to look at the apparition - like Jesse’s brain actively works against the sight of the amorphous black mass on the rooftop - how it seems to be corporeal and ethereal at the same time, mist wafting off of it like it’s hot coal left outside in a fine evening shower, all the while the smooth, deep blackness of the main bulk keeps sinuously moving; expanding and retracting before the gunslinger’s doubting eyes.

In the end, there is nothing to do but to believe the unbelievable, however - not when the creature… person… creature… has Hanzo firmly pinned and lifted into the air like an offering, thick tendrils of darkness (very corporeal, very real) around his chest and thighs keeping him raised just enough to deny him any form of purchase or leverage to squirm his way out of the chokehold.

As McCree watches, more blackness creeps around Hanzo’s form, curling around his arms and pulling his scrabbling hands away from one appendage that had formed a rigid, thick collar of oily darkness around the archer’s throat.

Jesse stands like an idiot, watching as Hanzo struggles, face slowly reddening from lack of oxygen. Smaller tendrils have split from the restraining, dark barriers holding him firm and secure, and as McCree looks on, weapon pointing at the ground in the lax grip of his fist, they worm their way beneath Hanzo’s clothes, playfully tugging the already wide gape of his yukata even farther apart.

“Mc…Cree!” Hanzo forces out before the thick appendage around his neck abruptly tightens itself once more and takes the last bit of air out of him. The large mass wafting and moving seems almost… amused. McCree feels vaguely nauseous at the distinct feelings and impressions he can sense trickling through his mind from the creature. He feels like a bumbling oaf, fingers clumsy and brain sluggish as he lifts the revolver and hesitantly points it at… at what. What was he supposed to shoot? There was no head, no heart, nothing he could even name.

“I don’t… aw damn…” His throat tightens, watching as the mass pulls Hanzo closer to the pulsing, dark core, letting him rest against its surface as the small tendrils keep cheekily pulling his clothes apart - dragging the remaining arm of his garment down his bicep and exposing the other side of his chest; even more tentacles getting to work on the sash wrapped around the trim waist.

Jesse’s arm sinks down to his side once more, mouth hanging open as he watches the mass pull apart fabric, sinuously sliding across exposed skin that seems almost sickly bright next to the absolute void of light dancing imp-like over the quivering ridges of Hanzo’s stomach - pulled as tight as the rest of his body’s protesting muscles. Hanzo’s lips are pulled back from his teeth in a vicious snarl, eyes rolling in their sockets, trying to pinpoint his attacker just as fruitlessly as Jesse had moments prior.

Watching him, Jesse gets reminded of a wild horse sensing the imminent branding - mouth frothing and hooves dancing.

“It’s more fun when you fight.”

Jesse startles, fingers helplessly tightening around Peacekeeper. That… was the voice from earlier. The dark, intangible whisper sliding into his very core. A sibilant hiss that seems to crackle like electricity and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand.

“You… can talk?” he asks, and his answer is a derisive cackle that settles in his belly - not unpleasant, he realizes with not a small amount of guilt.

Hanzo’s sash flutters to the ground. The tendrils had not been idle; working and slithering - curiously, studiously plucking at folds of clothing until they give way before them. Hanzo’s belly moves quick and fluttering with his panting, desperate breaths, and McCree flushes a dark red of shame when he realizes he had forgotten about his partner’s earlier struggle for air. The void seems to be kinder than Jesse McCree: it had loosened its merciless chokehold; instead flicking the end of the tendril that had curled once completely around Hanzo’s neck, along the soft, vulnerable underside of his chin as if it were petting him.

“Easy now,” the creature croons, one small tendril slipping across and dancing over Hanzo’s bellybutton, then dipping deeper and plays with the sparse hair it finds there. Jesse could swear it curled around the small hairs, tugging them like a lover would. “No sudden movements, sì? We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself… it seems you have lost quite a bit of clothing. So easy to slip down, now…”

Hanzo is flushed, though no longer on account of the loosened tentacle around his neck, chest moving in slow, careful drags of air.

“Jesse,” he says slowly, voice rough from the earlier abuse of his throat. “Shoot.”

The little tentacle is still wriggling - plucking playfully at Hanzo’s treasure trail. The apparition as a whole seems supremely unconcerned with their plotting. In fact, it feels like it is patiently waiting for them to get on the same page, namely…

“Where should I shoot, Hanzo? Tell me!” Jesse hisses, cybernetic hand curling into a helpless fist as he stuffs Peacekeeper in its holster with almost petulant anger. “What should I shoot, partner?”

“Just… do something!”

He jerks against his bonds in frustration - violent and sudden, and nearly managing to free himself before the appendages tighten up again, pinning him to the moving, pulsing core.

“Oh that’s not nice,” the dark voice whispers. It almost sounds like it is pouting. “If you only work yourself up, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to talk anymore, favorito.”

Jesse watches as another tentacle splits itself from the constantly moving mass, his own mouth dropping open in mindless sympathy as it unerringly finds Hanzo’s thrashing head and slithers across his jaw, not deterred in the least by the archer fighting against the inevitable.

Hanzo’s teeth are grit, refusing to open up to the almost lovingly prodding tip, and Jesse watches in morbid fascination as the tentacle loses its form and becomes like the mist constantly wafting off the beast - slithering insidiously through Hanzo’s teeth and his flared nostrils, driving into his body without any hope of keeping it out.

Hanzo’s eyes widen in alarm, a wet choking sound forced out of his throat as the appendage resumes its physical form once more - easily forcing the clench of his teeth apart, until his jaw is spread too far to get any good leverage for biting. As it is, he is helpless - body convulsing in small, pathetic waves as he tries to come to terms with this new situation, the black mass wriggling powerful - almost muscular - in his mouth, making him drool and choke until they manage to arrange themselves into a barely civil stalemate.

Jesse can almost see the way the void dark tip of the tentacle lovingly strokes the very back of Hanzo’s tongue; can almost hear the amused, sardonic whisper of the creature: ‘There you go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

He takes a helpless step closer, eyes roaming the expanse of the rooftop, looking for a way out of the situation and finding none. His gaze gets drawn back to Hanzo time and time again; how he has stopped struggling for the moment and simply hangs in the coiling embrace of the creature, naked chest heaving and eyes half closed.

Jesse takes another step forward without noticing, watching as Hanzo’s throat works - a slow, almost lazy contraction as he swallows, Adam’s Apple bobbing; then again; and again, drool slicking from the corner of his mouth, face steadily darkening. How far down was the tentacle slipping? Was it slowly slithering down his throat, making its way towards his stomach? If it was, it had to be small enough not to choke him because his chest was still heaving - moving with studiously calm breaths.

“So soft and squishy on the inside,” the voice purrs. “Wet and warm… I wonder…”

The appendage spreading his jaw open moves - lifts and forces Hanzo to tilt his head back, giving Jesse an even better view of his throat, thick and straining; bulging in a way it only did when Hanzo was taking cock like a champ, and let McCree use his throat in quick, dirty jabs of his hips, balls slapping messy against his chin…

Jesse’s mouth runs dry, eyes fixed on the sight of Hanzo swallowing even more laboriously than before, his cock filling helplessly, eagerly lifting at the mere sight. It is a shamefully Pavlovian reflex: he is well accustomed to the exquisite feeling of Hanzo’s massaging throat.

“Damn,” he murmurs, hand inching towards his crotch before he catches himself and curls his fingers into a tight fist. He wasn’t going to jerk off to Hanzo’s predicament. He refuses to.

A faint jerk of secured hips and a soft, muffled noise of protest from Hanzo alerts Jesse to another predicament: Hanzo’s hakama, already perched precariously loose on his hips after the creature had so dexterously divested him of his sash, had slipped down with the help of two more impish appendages.

And if that wasn’t a sight for sore eyes - Hanzo’s body straining and spread, on display, a flush of exertion crawling down his bulging, working throat, seemingly for the sole purpose of showing off his tits - and his cock….

…his cock.

His sleek, pretty cock that Jesse loved to ride - grind down on and make Hanzo clench his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet - , is curved up eagerly, flushed the same shade of humiliated red as his face. It bobs pitiful, greedy when one of the oily tendrils slides along his lower abdomen, just the very tip of the appendage teasingly wriggling against the base of the archer’s cock, hinting at touching it. The fucking thing is playing coy.

“Hanzo,” McCree chokes out. It sounds more scandalized than he actually feels, his voice no longer his own. He should be scandalized, though. He would be well within his rights to be - after all, Hanzo has gotten hard from the careless play session; from getting stripped bare and shown off by this reality defying amalgamation of darkness like he was nothing more than a toy.

Hanzo jerks at the sound of Jesse’s voice, belly flexing, hips helplessly curving up. He looks like he wants to thrash again - to loudly deny what his body was obviously eager for. All he manages to do, however, is to show off the hard, needy curve of his cock - the way it flexes for the touch of the creature -, and to liberally drool past the thick, pulsing tentacle he has dug his teeth into, his beard wet and gleaming with saliva.

Jesse wonders numbly how the creature feels. Whether it was as cool and smooth as it looked - like marble sliding and slipping along Hanzo’s body; or whether it felt hot like a fever; like slowly dying coals trickling dangerously across the skin.

In any case: Hanzo obviously likes it.

“It seems I have caught myself a little slut. Who would have thought?” the creature cooes. It is shifting around Hanzo; contracting, balling together, reshaping itself into what could vaguely be described as a humanoid shape all the while its appendages keep moving with it - lifting Hanzo higher and forcing his thighs farther apart.

The darkness slips towards his knees, hooks behind them like Jesse’s hands had done so very often, and lets the upper body sink back in turn until the archer his hanging helplessly, feet kicking in rage and head almost lying cushioned against what could be the shoulder of the wafting, ethereal form.

Jesse stumbles forward another step, hands raised, eyes wide, feeling like he had to be there if the tentacles suddenly lost their otherworldly form and Hanzo fell. Stupid, really. Stupid.

Helpless.

He was so helpless; there was nothing he could do. Even now, with its bone chilling vaguely humanoid form, there simply was nothing to attack. The creature was nothing. A large mass of concentrated, cheeky nothing.

“No closer than that, cowboy.” Jesse’s spurs jangle loudly as he jerks to a halt where he stands some five feet away from the display. The creature seems to turn its head towards the struggling archer - watches as the tentacle starts its agonizingly slow retreat from Hanzo’s throat. (Intimate. Gentle. Erotic. The thickest part of the tentacle throbbing, pulsing; the dark void strangely glistening and wet as it re-emerges from those secret, deep - soft and squishy… - places inside Hanzo’s body that Jesse would never be able to reach.)

There’s a soft hissing sound and McCree thinks that it had to be the creature inhaling deeply. Sniffing at its prey…?

“After all…” it resumes smoothly like nothing had happened, “You get to play with him every night, don’t you, puto? Play with him in every way your little ingrate brain can dream off - and he lets you because he’s a slut for the degradation. The indignity.

The proud heir of the Shimada clan letting himself get fucked by a dirty mutt any time the criatura sucia just so much as sniffs in his direction.

It would be only polite to share him don’t you think? Especially when he is so very eager to give his body over.”

The way it talked… was so… familiar…?

The tip of the tentacle at last slips out, and Hanzo lets it go with a wet gag and a shuddering, coughing drag of air. The tentacle keeps dangling above Hanzo’s wet lips, dripping a mess down onto his flushed cheeks that was only in part drool.

McCree’s cock jerks.

“Jesse…” Hanzo groans, voice hoarse. McCree slowly curls his fingers into fists, then relaxes them again. He barely dares to blink.

“Yes…? Hanzo?” His tongue feels clumsy in his mouth. He doesn’t know what to say. What should he say? There is nothing he could- Should he comfort him somehow?

“Don’t…” Hanzo licks his lips, slick with spit and whatever the appendage was oozing - a murky black substance that slipped along his cheeks, dripping off the sharp angles of his jaw towards the floor. As Jesse watches, Hanzo’s tongue flicks out and laps at the liquid on his bottom lip.

Suddenly he has to wonder about the pulsing of the appendage again - the muscular, erotic pulsing as it had slithered deeper and deeper into Hanzo’s throat. Had it been pushing out the slime the whole time? Depositing it right into Hanzo’s belly, filling him up in slow increments…?

Jesse rubs his hand across his face. He needs to stay focused. His head pounds. (His cock pounds…)

“What? Hanzo… What,” he urges, gaze flicking towards the creature standing still - seemingly waiting. Anticipating. Holding Hanzo up in the air, naked and vulnerable.

“Don’t… look,” Hanzo finally gurgles out. He has difficulty talking. His head is sinking farther back, throat stretching and bobbing with his every slow, leisurely swallow. “Look away.”

Jesse grits his teeth, eyes going flinty. Peacekeeper feels comfortingly heavy against his thigh.

“I ain’t gonna leave you alone, partner. I ain’t gonna think bad of you, or-”

“McCree!” Hanzo interrupts him while the creature chuckles in the background - a sound that gives Jesse goosebumps along his forearms and makes his belly clench.

New tendrils of darkness split from the void of its body and start licking along Hanzo’s back; playfully tickling through the cleft of his ass; rubbing along the taut, big muscles of his thighs.

Hanzo struggles to lift his head and stares at Jesse bleary eyed - and suddenly he understands.

Hanzo likes what is happening - pupils huge and nearly catlike; face a little slack with need… He likes what is happening and doesn’t want Jesse to see it. He is not supposed to witness how Hanzo’s cock is flexing in eager anticipation when the darkness curls around his thighs - or how he struggles to bring his knees farther apart when a little tendril cheekily rubs right behind his balls.

“Yeah?” Jesse rasps, watching as one dark appendage curls around Hanzo’s cock; slim enough to wrap around it in loving, tight circles, the pale flesh like marble in between. “You like that, do you? Some nasty tentacles holdin’ you up, showin’ you off…”

He was babbling with nerves.

Hanzo flushes, face messy with drool and translucent, greyish slick, mouth dropping open as the tentacle squeezes his cock and lifts it away from his belly - pulls it upright just so Jesse can see everything that’s going on. How the small tip lovingly rubs across Hanzo’s swollen glans, paying special attention to the wet slit.

Hanzo’s dark eyes flick to his for a split second, seemingly trying to gauge what his words mean - then lets his head fall back on a low groan anyway, hips jerking up shamelessly, trying to fuck into the steady grip of the tentacle. He huffs in frustration when it simply follows his movements, belly muscles clenching and relaxing. He pulls at the restraints around his arms, testing their strength. They tighten in response.

“Delightful,” the creature purrs. It doesn’t sound sincere. More darkness creeps up around Hanzo’s twisting form, wrapping around his hips and stilling his movements as another slim tentacle slips between his cheeks. “I knew you were a slut for it; could see it from miles away. How do you function without a cock constantly stretching you open, Shimada? Do you get antsy without a dick? Do you get the jitters, having to sit still hours and hours on end, no cock there to tide you over, ream you like you need it to live…”

The tentacle has started wriggling into the tender little orifice Jesse knows so well, and Hanzo isn’t struggling against the intrusion - is, in fact, trying to help things along as he strains to push down into it, muscles shifting and flexing as he works with whatever leverage he can glean out of his predicament.

Another tentacle slithers close - and another one. Jesse would worry if they weren’t getting everything messy and slick; slime dripping down to the floor as they writhe and move - pushing each other out of the way in their haste to slip inside, as if they were sentient beings all on their own; and wasn’t that a nice thought? Those slim, eager little things wriggling into Hanzo’s willing body, splitting off to each do their own thing; slipping against his spongy walls and insistently pressing against them to figure him out; feel how his body moves around them, how his internal muscles squeeze down and hold them in a secure, loving grip.

Hanzo makes a soft sound - high and short; a little whine as he gets spread on the three little tentacles that start pulsing, filling him up with their slime until it drips out of him in a sticky mess that gets absorbed back into the large, dark frame - an endless cycle of giving and taking, as Hanzo bucks and writhes; jerking violently when more appendages surge up around him and stroke along his pecs. They mold themselves to the underside of the muscles, squeezing like hands, small tips flicking across the stiff peaks of Hanzo’s nipples until a low, long moan rumbles right out of him. The sound climbs up, gets more desperate and wail-like the longer the tentacles play with him; feel his chest up and playfully force their way into his body.

McCree shifts awkwardly from one leg to the other, cock thick and needy behind the tight confines of his fly, the swollen head trying to painfully push it’s way up behind the large, heavy buckle of his belt. He wonders if anybody will notice if he opens it; if anybody would even care if he started jerking off to the sight of the archer getting willingly molested in front of him.

(Oh and how quickly the mighty have fallen - his noble intentions of not getting off on Hanzo’s predicament now biting him in the ass; but how could he have known Hanzo would love it? Would willingly open his mouth again for the flicking tip of the fat tentacle, tongue out and throat vibrating with his low, wrecked grunts whenever one of the smaller ones pushes into him too harshly?)

“McCree… don’t you want to play, as well?”

Jesse flinches, hand immediately dropping back down to Peacekeeper - which is no longer in its holster. He sharply looks down at his hip, mouth hanging open in confusion - and immediately regrets having taken his eyes off the enemy because he gets wrenched off his feet by large, grasping tentacles.

“Don’t you want to have fun like your pretty little slut here? I seem to recall you being just as much a whore for cum when you were still so young and tender… Always lurking around the outside of my office; hoping I’d call you in again… let you crawl beneath my desk and play with my cock. Such a greedy young man you’ve been. Can’t have evaporated just because you found yourself a cum dumpster, sì?”

And finally the penny drops.

.o.

“Oh no… don’t look so angry, guapo. It’s not been your fault - you’ve simply never been able to outwit your Commander; just how things are supposed to be.”

Jesse tries to wriggle for a moment, but quickly stops when he feels the intense strain the movements put on his shoulders. Gabriel has to admit that his former protegé has gotten the worse deal of the two; dangling trussed up like a hog above the archer, limbs uncomfortably bent… but in the end the simple truth wins out that Gabriel doesn’t necessarily give a fuck about his comfort.

He was, after all, a man of aesthetics - and he got himself a pretty pair of pets today, if he did say so himself. He studies them; enjoys their differences. The sharp cut lines and smooth skin of the archer against Jesse’s soft rolls of fat around his broad, swaggering hips and hairy belly.

He has gotten soft, his boy - but he was still a pretty catch; still deadly and gorgeous, even pouting like he was now.

“Look at him, McCree. Your whore is loving every second of it.”

There is no struggle to be had from the Japanese man any longer; he is hanging in Reaper’s grip, a warm, compact bundle straining for release and utterly shameless about it. When he feeds him his tentacle once more, Hanzo merely lifts his head into it - stretches his throat and welcomes the appendage with a warm little lick of his clever tongue.

His cock is hot in Reaper’s grip, the sensations coming from his appendages dizzying and new; he’s never tried using them like he did now; slipping them into warm, welcoming bodies and filling them up from both sides.

“Look at him,” he purrs again, stepping a little closer, eager to see the archer’s liquid, dark eyes widen in mindless alarm when the tentacles start wriggling deeper, shoving and prodding gentle yet focused, crawling the long way through his intestines and creeping down his throat, taking care not to choke him this time.

They fuck him with little pulses of their serpentine bodies, repeatedly spreading his rim that little, excruciating bit more that makes his eyes water and his hands curl into fists. His belly is heaving, and when Reaper concentrates hard enough, focuses on moving the appendages just right, a small bulge appears in Hanzo’s lower belly.

Hanzo’s eyes roll up at the sensation, a gurgling moan forced past the tentacle throat fucking him.

Jesse - is not looking. His head is hanging, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, hairy thighs straining as one stray little tentacle plays with him; the soft tip digging into the warm, humid space behind his balls, wriggling into the thick bush and curling around the base of his cock.

Reaper growls; would’ve grit his teeth if he’d had any right now. He loosens one of the tentacles holding the archer’s arms, and lets it shoot up to curl tight into McCree’s long, shaggy hair, using it as a means to wrench his head back.

McCree groans like he’s hurt. His cock, ruddy and fat, jerks as the little tentacle starts to crawl up along the shaft.

“I said look at him,” Gabriel hisses and wafts closer - close enough to see the sweat on their heaving bodies, and feel the feverish heat radiating off of them. He watches the muscles jump in McCree’s scruffy jaw, focusing on how his mouth drops open on a low groan as he stares down at his partner.

When Gabriel is satisfied that McCree will keep watching, he follows his gaze down to where Hanzo is moving his head; little, almost dream-like thrusts as he actively deepthroats the tentacle that’s been motionless since Reaper’s attention has been diverted. Small sounds of mindless, greedy need spilling from him as he struggles to get more attention, more stimulation, more fullness… simply more.

He looks insatiable in his need - the tentacles simulating a battalion of lovers solely for Hanzo’s amusement. They mimic hands that grope his plush tits and pinch his nipples or slide down his belly, leaving sticky, greyish slime in their wake just to fondle his balls and squeeze his cock…

He is getting fucked and pushed to his limits - and Reaper delights in pulling him back down down again when he gets too excited; laughing deep and satisfied at the desperate clench of Hanzo’s belly and the arch of his chest. They’re looking at each other, now - needy and mindless, staring helplessly at the other’s flushed face. Reaper wonders what might be going through the little whores’ minds.

He feels dark glee thrumming through his body when he suddenly denies Hanzo everything on a whim, and simply retracts his tentacles; leaving the archer’s cock to bob in the warm Mexican air, that pretty, swollen hole empty within a second, softly gaping and dripping the copious amounts of slick he’s pumped into him.

Hanzo cries out in alarm, eyes wide and a little wet - flicking from Jesse to Reaper, mouth dropping open, obviously only seconds from whining a desperate ‘Why?’. He catches himself; bites his lip; slides his gaze to the side even as his belly heaves and his cock flexes out a little drop of salty pre-cum, the head flushed a dark, dusky pink. He looks seconds away from crying and Reaper thinks he’s never seen anything more tantalizing.

That is, perhaps…

“Ah! What the- What the fuck?” Jesse’s voice cracks on the last word like he’s a teenager all over again, body trembling, eyes large as he fights against the pull on his hair uselessly. He wants to look down, of course, and see what is happening to his poor cock, and how Gabriel used the delicious distraction of Hanzo’s desperation to let that little tentacle crawl farther up his cock; let it lovingly squeeze the fat, swollen head and slot the thin tip against the slit there.

It had been snuggled against it, idly stroking the little hole, curling down and into the loose foreskin every now and then, playfully tugging on it and testing the give, dipping into the salty moisture it had found trapped beneath, while Reaper had been busy playing with the archer.

Now, though… now it is no longer content with sliding all around the swollen head; now it has started wriggling inside that tender little piss hole, a steady stream of slime oozing from the thin tip, easing the slow, steady way inside as McCree howled and thrashed, more panic than actual pain making his eyes go wide and crazy like a colt’s.

Hanzo is just watching; mouth open, eyes heavy lidded - enjoying the sight of McCree’s cock and the veins around it springing out in stark relief, just as much as Reaper is enjoying it.

McCree seems not to be on the same page, as of yet - groaning high and pathetic, eyes clenched shut tightly as the small appendage worms its way down his cock, undoubtedly making him feel full to bursting, a gentle burn setting his crotch alight.

Another tentacle, not quite as small, slides up between McCree’s legs, taking a short detour through the hairy, humid valley between his ass cheeks, giving his shy hole a little playful nudge, before slithering farther down towards his heavy balls hanging ripe and full.

He groans and bucks, and Gabriel sighs: “Don’t be a baby.” Secretly, he likes it, though; he thrives on McCree’s grunts and moans, desperate jerks and animalistic huffs. He’s always been like that, Reaper remembers almost fondly as he glides slowly around them, watching his prizes from all angles.

Hanzo is more than accepting when he gives him a couple tentacles back, nudges them gently into his warm, fucked open hole. He writhes lustfully; practically preens under the attention, and flushes a dark shade of eager, embarrassed red when the slime already filling him squelches loudly.

It’s like having sloppy seconds, and Gabriel can’t say that he hates the idea.

McCree is still making noise; low, reedy groans, body carefully motionless, obviously afraid of getting hurt if he makes any wrong movements. Gabriel is not going to assuage his worries. Instead, he uses McCree’s momentary stillness to fuck his cock with the little tentacle, and lovingly squeeze those full balls.

He fondles both his prizes in tandem, watches as they break down for him, mewling and sweaty, faces red and cocks twitching. McCree is chuffing like a beast, cheeks quivering as he takes huge, gulping breaths, eyes steadily fixed on his partner’s blissed out face as if determined to ignore that it was Reyes playing his body like a fine-tuned instrument.

They’re quivering for him and he is unashamed in taking everything they’re giving. He is soaking in their desperation and listens to them singing for him. Well - caterwauling more like.

Greedy pets.

McCree is the first one to break; his face beet red and his soft belly quivering. He looks panicked - actually glances at Gabriel for the first time, brown puppy dog eyes large and helpless.

Reaper laughs at him and lets him hang in there for just a second longer; just enough to enjoy his mounting panic before he pulls out and vacates the way for the thick bursts of cum and slick forcing their way out of him as Jesse groans deep and rattling in his chest.

Hanzo follows seconds after - his orgasm an almost mindless reaction to McCree’s release; the warm splashes of his partners cum across his belly and cock coaxing out of him a conditioned response of mutual pleasure; his body shaking in the throes of it, teeth grit, inner muscles clenching around the squishy, wriggling tentacles inside him.

Reaper breathes with them in the aftermath; quick, little bursts, his heart racing, his body struggling to maintain the ethereal form. He can’t come like he is now… not quite; but it is a close facsimile of it, and he needs to concentrate not to loose control and let them crash to the ground.

What a nice guy he is.

.o.

He leaves them on the rooftop; these rookies that had thought they could outsmart him with their stupid, little prank.

They look lovely, covered in slime and disoriented, weak as puppies as they blearily look for their clothes.

He wonders if they’ll be cheeky enough to try fooling Talon again.

He almost hopes they will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	82. McCree/Hanzo Camshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit my dude i would absolutely kill if you wrote more of hanzo getting deep dicked by mccree on Camera

McCree slowly breathes out after settling down, eyes closing, belly burning as he feels the carefully restrained twitch of Hanzo’s muscles around his cock. He rubs one hand slowly along the slope of his back, the other one still hooked in the leghole of the panties that he had pulled to the side to get at that sweet hole in the first place.

Now he can let go of that as well, hands settling on Hanzo’s hips as he gives a cautious nudge of his hips. Hanzo groans into the bedding.

McCree grins with a tremble and turns his head around, searching for the laptop, only to realize he left it too far away to actually see the chat.

“Damn,” he murmurs, peeking back down at Hanzo. “Darlin’, we gotta scootch a bit… Just a tad… c’mon, work with me here.”

Hanzo growls, and while he isn’t exactly fighting against it, he also isn’t cooperating too much - he’s got spread on dick which means he got what he wanted. 

Jesse huffs and cups a hand just above Hanzo’s knee, easily lifting the stumped leg into the air to get him off-balance as he started dragging him - and in turn the bedding in which Hanzo had sunk his fingers like claws.

Hanzo pants like a dog, muscles clenching around Jesse’s cock fierce enough to make him hiss.

“That’s it. That’s it. Yeah… AAaannnd we’re here.” He gently lets Hanzo settle back in his knees and smiles when the other man throws him a dark glance over his shoulder. A soft rocking of Jesse’s hips quickly soothes the ruffled feathers, though.

Finally, he’s close enough to read the chat.

that was the stupidest thing Ive ever seen.

kinda hot tho

… yes.

good maneuvering there cowboy!!! >:D Can you show off the panties I sent you a lil more? They look so cute on him °3°

Jesse hums and reaches down, bringing his arms in a bear hug around Hanzo’s chest to get him up despite his growling struggles, until he’s sitting in his lap, speared on his cock and whining low in his throat. Like this, he can show Hanzo’s front to the camera: how directly above his straining cock a white bunny silhouette breaks the pink of the panties.

so cute!!!!!

come on, fuck the slut silly. We’ve been waiting for it long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	83. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me what you want" gabe/lucio pls

“Tell me what you want.”

Lúcio sits with his legs crossed, two items laid out before him on the bed: a leather paddle and soft wash glove which he would soak in warm water before rubbing Gabriel down.

“It’s your choice,” he tells him, which he hadn’t yet done and made Gabriel instantly suspicious. He always asked whether Gabriel wanted to play with one toy or another - but he never outright gave him the choice between toys in the first place.

Gabriel is kneeling on the floor, eyeing both options, back ramrod straight. He looks up at Lúcio every now and then - scrutinizing. Mistrusting. If it had been for Lúcio, they would be sitting on an eye level for this. As it was, however, Gabriel didn’t like them being on an eye level when they were playing; even though he was looking as moody and ill-tempered as ever, face scrunching up and getting darker by the minute.

“Why should I choose?” he murmurs, hands on his thighs.

“Because I want to know what you’re in the mood for. You can take them in hand if you want to.”

Gabriel looked like he wanted to, but he didn’t move an inch.

“What if I choose wrong?”

Lúcio frowns and shrugs. “There’s no wrong option, babe. It’s an either, or kind of deal.”

Gabriel looks back down again, staring at both options, eyes lingering on the shiny, well-kept leather for a while.

He chances another glance up at Lúcio who was rocking on his ass to whatever little tune was going through his head this time, then jerks his chin towards the lime green wash cloth.

“That one.”

Lúcio smiles and leans forward, hand stroking through Gabriel’s short curls like he’s petting a dog - and Gabriel leans into it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Lúcio coos. “I was sure you’d jump on the opportunity to get a little pain. What a good boy you are… tellin’ the truth and all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	84. Hanzo/Roadhog Cuckolding

Roadhog in and of himself made an impressive figure.

Seeing him sitting naked, knees spread and huge gut jutting out unashamedly with his cock a ruddy red color beneath, smearing sticky fluid against the underside of his stomach was… downright intimidating.

Jesse wouldn’t have come close to him, if he was honest. He could almost feel his balls trying to crawl up into his belly out of submission to the superior dick, and from the look of Rutledge - arms up on the backrest of the couch, showing off the thick hair in his pits, chin a little tipped up until his expressionless mask looked smug - he knew it.

He looked relaxed and in charge; like a decadent, barbaric king; especially with how Hanzo was curled into his side, a flush across the back of his nose, one hand right above the bulging belly to feel it slowly rise and fall with Roadhog’s breathing.

“Please?” He could be so nice if he wanted to. Very polite and demure, face nuzzling against Rutledge’s chest, mouthing wet and warm at the nipple he found there. (Trying to ingratiate himself, the little slut.) “Please can I have it?”

He never sounded like that when it was just the two of them. When they were alone he loved cock just as much - but he never shyly asked for it. He pushed Jesse down and took it where and how he liked, satiating himself until McCree was red faced and huffing like an engine going uphill. 

Jesse liked seeing him vie for Mako’s cock like a two dollar whore for a change.

Mako simply grunted. It sounded ominous behind his mask. He shifted one meaty arm and reached beneath his firm, bulging stomach, curling thick fingers around his cock. Jesse could just sit and stare. It looked like a fucking weapon in the huge fist as he jacked himself slowly.

“Get down,” Roadhog rumbled. It sounded just this side of impatient - just enough to make Hanzo scramble to get down onto the ground, eager, desperate, mouth open and wet; probably seconds from drooling at the thought of fucking himself down on the wide head of the sturdy dick.

Before he can dive down and nudge his way beneath Mako’s gut, the large guy moves - shockingly fast. His other hand comes down, slapping against Hanzo’s forehead and holding him at bay.

“Didn’t say you could have it.”

Jesse sees Hanzo’s shoulders sag and hears his wheezing breath. When he creeps around - slow and careful, strangely afraid to pull Roadhog’s attention towards himself (Stupidly feeling like he doesn’t want to pull the attention of the Alpha Male) - he can see tears in the corners of Hanzo’s eyes which are focused on the cock in front of his nose.

“That’s how you treat it.”

It takes Jesse too long to realize Mako is talking to him - that he has turned his head minutely and the mask is looking right at him while he is still jerking himself off centimeters in front of Hanzo’s face, the open wet gape of his mouth.

“It learns better when it doesn’t always get what it wants.”

His hand slides down; from holding Hanzo’s forehead to gripping his jaw, black painted fingernails scratching almost gently along the line of his beard. He lets him suckle on his big thumb and Hanzo looks content as a babe, even though he still peeks at Mako’s cock - still obviously wants to play with it instead.

He didn’t seem offended by getting reduced to nothing but warm, welcoming holes, and truth be told, Jesse had a hard time being offended for him.

Mako did pull him closer after a while, fingers so tight around his jaw it looked painful. He had an impeccable grip on Hanzo; not giving him room to wriggle any which way as he aimed carefully, thumb pressing down right across his piss hole, dragging a hard, little circle around it before pulling off with a grunt and the first hot splash of cum right across the bridge of Hanzo’s nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	85. Hanzo/Soldier76 Milking

Hanzo’s fingers are curled tightly into the lapels of 76’s jacket. The digits have become numb, and the synthetic nerves connecting his legs to his thighs are going haywire, making his feet twitch and his calves actually spasm.

He can’t remember when last he had felt that particular sensation; it was not unwelcome. The burn pulled up his legs and down his curved back to concentrate in the hot mess his pelvis region had become after the second orgasm stolen out of him.

His hips were a cup filled with lava, his cock feeling too tender and his balls aching in the most pleasant way possible; he felt wrung dry and sated, and still his hips were angled back - still he let 76 finger him sweetly, deeply, helping him calm down from the desperate high he had pushed him into in way too short a time.

Hanzo cants his upper body forward, one hand laboriously loosening its death grip on the dark leather to slide up onto one strong shoulder, and then further into the nape of the man’s neck. He nuzzles unthinkingly against the cool synthetic mesh fibre of the mask covering the man’s face.

“Take it off,” he demands in a sated slur, cheek rubbing against the material. The English words feel foreign in his mouth and he would have been surly about how much his tongue refused to curl around them, making him probably sound like a fool - but he can’t dredge up the energy to do so.

He feels calm. Mellowed down by the two orgasms 76 had given him with surprising patience; sitting steadfast on the rickety chair in the run-down little farm house they had chosen for their illicit tryst, not wavering once, no matter how wanton Hanzo moved atop of him, riding his fingers, twisting his hips in sharp, little snaps.

He’d been silent and watching - staring at him through the orange-red of his visor, eyebrows drawn slightly up as if in mild surprise… or amusement. He honestly couldn’t say; he didn’t know the man enough.

“No,” 76 told him, voice gruff but not unkind. His free hand slid along Hanzo’s thigh; rubbed across his hip, thumb testing the sharp edge of Hanzo’s hipbone. “One more?”

Hanzo groaned and shook his head ‘no’, but when he felt the fingers inside him start moving with intent once more, sliding, thrusting, gently circling, he merely presses his forehead against 76’s shoulder and lets him go at it, no matter the electricity sparking through his belly and right into his spent cock, and how on much on pain it is edging.

There is a small puddle of Hanzo’s cooling cum in 76’s lap. Hanzo can see it when he peeks down blearily. He made a right mess out of the stranger.

He can’t believe they only met a few hours ago on the outskirts of a village near Hanamura; a chance encounter, one in a million. He can’t believe he is letting this man do this to him; wreck him on nothing but a couple rough, broad fingers that circle his prostate with near loving care, prodding with soft, gentle fingertips at the ripe swell of it until Hanzo chokes on a cry and bites into the protective mesh covering the man’s throat.

He doesn’t even know his name.

He doesn’t know how he looks beneath his tactical gear. His mask. He doesn’t know whether he is cut, whether he has scars, burns, beauty marks. He doesn’t know whether he is hard beneath those heavy pants he’s wearing.

It’s been enough an hour ago - when Hanzo’s been desperate enough for touch, crawling all over him as soon as it had become apparent he wouldn’t be adverse to the advances. Throwing himself at him like a cat in heat, mewling for it in his own quiet way…

(Panting against the stranger’s ear, whispering about how very much he needed this; needed to get speared by cock and spread open and used like a harlot; all of this in a language he knew 76 would not understand.

How nice it had been of him to give in. How sweet. How accomodating. Letting Hanzo crawl onto his lap, naked and eager, coming down on him like a gentle, insistent storm, wanting all his desires fulfilled and seemingly getting his wishes - until those fingers didn’t pull away after pushing him unerringly into his first orgasm. Until they stay and enjoy the contractions and twitching before taking up their eager, deep exploration of his body yet again, making him groan and buck and hang on for dear life.)

And now it was no longer enough. Hanzo wanted to get at skin - wanted to claw his way beneath the thick leather of the jacket and bite into real skin instead of the protective mesh; wanted to fucking see his face as he rode his fingers.

“Let me see,” he demands, fingers scrabbling at the sides of the mask, useless and still numb, searching for the clasps to release it and grunting softly in frustration when 76’s free hand comes up and easily catches his wrists, pulling his hands down and away. Hanzo wildly wonders whether he used the right words - whether 76 even understood what he was asking of him. His brain goes haywire, not understanding that someone could refuse his demand.

His hips are jerking back, body shuddering, mouth dropping open, and he doesn’t realize he’s coming a third time until he is coming down from it, muscles slowly relaxing from their desperate, tight clench that took the breath from him.

He looks down his body, between the triangle of his caught arms - hands held against 76’s chest - and just stares dumbly at his cock. It’s not even hard; just chubby, vaguely interested, raw looking. His balls hurt gently. He didn’t shoot cum because they’re drained already; he came dry and his brain can’t comprehend the situation.

“One more,” 76 tells him, head dipping forward. Hanzo can’t see his eyes - he has no idea what their color might be - but he still feels like the stranger is searching for his gaze.

Hanzo lifts his head from his quiet perusal of his own cock and just stares back.

“One more,” 76 says again, a little slower this time, voice like sandpaper.

Hanzo doesn’t understand what he is saying until the fingers start moving again. His hole is fucked soft and pliant; clenching weakly as Hanzo’s mouth falls open. He is panting like a dog, and instead of the ‘no, no, no’s he wants to say, he is whispering pathetically breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s, mouth open, drool slicking from the corner into his beard.

His eyes slant closed, cat-like, belly heaving as he bows his back and pushes it forward. His body is moving on its own, trying simultaneously to strain away and towards the fingers spreading inside him, testing the texture of the spongy, warm walls, scissoring open to lay around his prostate - the needy gland snuggled in between them as much as possible.

He feels like he’s never going to see this man again after this. 76 will drag this out of him, steal it out of him, and leave him a drooling, satisfied mess on the rickety cot in the corner of the rundown place.

He’ll leave on his way, wherever he came from, and Hanzo will wonder what took him to Japan in the first place.

He doesn’t know his name or even what his face looks like, and the sensation crawling up his belly from deep down in his pelvis, is so great, so all consuming, it is frightening. His head falls back and he stares at the ceiling, hips twisting, rocking, jerking. He is drooling and feels delirious. He doesn’t know what this man did to him.

He can feel his heartbeat through the thick material of his jacket where his palms are pressed against his chest by his own restricting hand. It is thudding quick and strong.

Hanzo wonders whether the stranger will think about this for as long as he surely will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	86. McCree/Reaper Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "shh, don't cry. it'll all be over soon. now keep counting." with mcreyes (wait do you like mcreyes? if not im sorry and you can ignore this i cant remember)

“Shh, don’t cry. It’ll all be over soon. Now keep counting.”

Jesse squints and bites his lip to stop sobbing - it only throws his aim off. He can barely see through the tears and needs way too long to line the shot up. Commander Reyes is silent behind him - lets him take his time to finally pull the trigger.

Jesse can just about see the target in the distance faintly wobble - no bullseye but at least he hit it - before a new point of white hot pain races down his right arm starting at the swell of his shoulder.

He cries out, cock pulsing heavy and thick in his slacks, arm hanging loose at his side. He is clutching Peacekeeper studiously hard, not wanting to let it fall to the ground like last time the Commander had not been happy about that one.

“Count,” Reyes barks and Jesse sobs out: “Six!”

“Next one. You still good?” An arm, thick as a tree trunk, comes around him, large hand settling in his crotch while the Commander takes a drag of his cigarette right next to his face. Jesse can feel the heat from the ember at the tip and is not sure whether the dribble soaked up by his underwear is piss or pre-cum. He’s excited and nervous enough for both.

Reyes squeezes his cock and chuckles. “Yeah, you’re good. Next.”

Jesse takes a huge, gulping breath and lifts his arm again. There are six little dots on the swell of his shoulder, carefully burned into his flesh for each target he managed to hit. He is a mess, face snotty and wet, but the Commander promised him if he’d manage to get ten this time, he’d blow him in the lockers.

There are only four more targets.

His hand is shaking too much and he can’t see the end of the range. His head is pounding, thinking of the delicious hurt on his shoulder, and the hand on his cock and the cigarette dangling from Reyes’ mouth, ashes precariously long, threatening to drop down onto his neck….

He shoots - and then he fires his shot as his trigger finger spasms, as his whole body spasms, creaming into his shorts in warm, wet, humiliating pulses.

He misses the target, of course, and the fact that he won’t get another brand is almost worse than the fact that Reyes is laughing at him and patting his messy crotch like he would the head of a child.

“Better luck next time, McCree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	87. Reaper/Genji Inflation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How are my darlings this fine morning?" Gabriel "training" Hanzo and Genji.

“How are my darlings this fine morning?” Low, pained groans greet him; indistinct and muffled through the gags they are wearing nowadays after losing talking privileges some time ago.

The harnesses they’re strapped into squeak softly as they squirm in the air, bloated bellies swaying. They look gorgeous filled with the slimy darkness he filled them with last night, faces drenched in sweat and sickly pale.

As Gabriel steps closer, Genji’s vents pop open, emitting a hissing cloud of steam before he sags into the bindings, kitten weak after the pathetic display.

“Good boys,” Reaper purrs fingers lifting their chins to look into their eyes as he focuses on moving the slimy mess their guts are filled with; pulsing, sick blackness pushing against every nook and cranny, filling out their most secret little spots. 

As he watches, Hanzo’s eyes widen a little more still, a new trickle of drool spilling from the stretched corner of his mouth as he suddenly comes onto the floor, cock jerking and flexing against the distorted curve of his belly.

When he’s done, he huffs like an animal, a certain kind of tranquility settling over his features. He nuzzles weak into Gabriel’s clawed hand and Reaper chuckles.

“That’s it. Just let it consume you, pet. It’s so much better than to fight it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	88. DVa/Hanzo Nasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by that last ask: hanzo loving Dva's armpits, whether they're shaved or not. He loves it when she lets him feel/sniff them right after she takes her suit off. Sometimes she'll even let him fuck her armpits (but doesn't let him cum, ofc)

He is fiddling with the delicate heads of his arrows, but she can see his dark eyes peeking at her. He wants to be sneaky and don’t seem too needy but D.Va has had figured him out ages ago. She knows he has been staring since she crawled out of her MEKA and has been half hard since she purposefully walked close past him - letting him feel the heat radiating off of her body and catch a whiff of the sweat she had worked up.

“Come,” she says, not bothering to modulate her voice into something more quiet, finger crooking in a beckoning gesture at him. McCree looks up from cleaning Peacekeeper, puppy attentive to her voice, and realizes he is not meant. “I need help to get out of my suit.”

Hanzo’s face darkens and he glances around the hangar. Some are looking, faces knowing. Others are ignoring what is happening. He flushes a shameful red but follows her anyway into a small bathroom.

She doesn’t need help getting in and out of her suit, but she lets him peel her out of it anyway; pushes it roughly to her hips so her small, firm tits bounce.

He doesn’t care for them and she laughs at his eagerness and how single-minded he is when he pushes beneath one of her arms to get at the sweaty tangle in her armpit, a low grunt rattling from him.

D.Va lets him push her against the cool wall of the bathroom and kiss and nuzzle her pits just because he’s been good today and deserves a little reward.

“You’re a disgusting, old man,” she chides and giggles, knee lifting into his warm crotch where his cock is hard and excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	89. Genji/Zenyatta Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just saw that post you made about edging Zenyatta. Could you imagine his sweet voice just letting out the prettiest sounds and he's too shy to ask for more but whoever is edging him (Genji? Hanzo?McCree?) is just whispering sweetly to him while working him up again.

“G-g-g-g-g-geeeeennnn…”

Zenyatta’s voice warbled, static taking the rest of the plea. One of the orbs floating around them in a tranquil circle jerked and dropped to the ground. 

Genji hummed low and soothing, readjusting his grip around his Master’s chest to keep him nice and contained - not that Zenyatta was going to go anywhere. He was docile even in his desperation - even when Genji and Lúcio had been playing with his circuitry for two hours now, testing out what his processors could handle.

He tilted his head, lying his cheek against the smooth, warm metal of Zenyatta’s cranium. “Are you watching Lúcio like we told you to?”

“I am.” 

Genji smirked and pressed a kiss to the shining chrome. “Of course you are. Look at how sweet he’s being for you.”

They both glanced down at the young man lying between Zenyatta’s legs, rubbing the softness of his cheek along the slender, segmented cock of the omnic.

As they watched, he licked the tips of his fingers and applied them to the sleek, dark head, rubbing along the several ridges fanning down the glans like gills - designed for the express purpose of satisfying humans.

A soft, high note shivered through the air: Zenyatta whimpering as his core temperature started rising again, several delicate parts of machinery whirring into life to combat the heat.

“What if he didn’t pull back this time?” Genji inquired, palms sliding across the chassis of Zenyatta’s chest, fingers dipping beneath the plating to stroke along thin wires and nudge against one of the nodes hidden there.

Zenyatta arched into the sensation, the orbs rounding them faster.

“Would you come without permission?”

“N….” Zenyatta’s golden jaw jerked to the side in denial as his voicebox refused to work beyond a garble of almost bird-like chirping.

Lúcio utilized that exact moment to press a wet, tonguing kiss against the smooth glass dome covering another of the many sensitive nodes nestled just beneath the glans; mouth suckling and gentle as he laved his tongue across the pulsing teal light.

Zenyatta’s voice fizzled out into an electric hum, pistons hissing as he jerked back against his pupil. The orbs levitating around them started pulsing blue; fast and with a certain kind of urgency until Lúcio had to pull back again, eyes huge as he peeked up at them, mouth wet and open - and a string of saliva connecting him to the protecting glass.

“Puh-llll….eassee,” Zenyatta wailed when he finally managed to wrangle his voicebox back under control, his vocals shifting wildly in tone, slim hips lifting hopefully towards Lúcio’s waiting, wet mouth.

Genji kissed him again, noting how the omnic turned into the feeling like a flower towards the sun: those hidden little sensors letting him experience so much that was going on around him.

“I think Lúcio wants to play a little more. He hasn’t yet gotten all the vocals he wants… do you?”

Lúcio grins and leans forward, blowing cool air against the spit he left behind, making Zenyatta sing for them from the sudden temperature drop.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Very well.” Genji reaches down and hooks arms beneath Zenyatta’s knees to urge him into lifting them and fold his glittering, metallic body - showing off more of his secrets. “Always so helpful. Such a good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	90. Reaper/Soldier76 Oviposition

“The famously infamous Soldier: 76. What a… ah… pleasure to finally meet you,” Reaper purrs against the side of his prey’s head, smoke sinuously curled around his arms, carefully keeping him at bay. There is strength in his frame - Reaper can feel it radiating off of him, even contained as he is right now. Interesting. Intriguing - especially for an old soldier like him.

“I’m your biggest fan.” His voice is pitched low, as if divulging a secret, smoke lapping up the soldier’s arms, feeling around the bulge of his biceps. They’re impressive, even relaxed as they are now, and Reaper feels a frisson of want shiver down his spine. He’s always had a weakness for the muscular ones.

The soldier doesn’t say anything; simply snorts derisively and carefully flexes his shoulders. Reaper can hear the soft humming of his tactical visor as it scans the immediate vicinity for a weapon that is not sitting packed up and useless in a crate.

“A pity, isn’t it?” Reaper continues, drifting a little closer, body pressing against his enemy’s broad back a little more intimately than strictly necessary. “A warehouse full of toys and not one you could play with.”

A thick whisp of smoke wafts into both their peripheral visions, Soldier: 76’s pulse rifle dangling precariously from the end. Reaper can feel the soldier’s muscles stiffen for the first time, and it is glorious. “It’s mine now. And I don’t like sharing.”

Soldier: 76 snorts again and it immediately loses its charm. It’s no fun playing with prey that doesn’t fight back, after all.

“Nothing to say?” he hisses, more darkness crowding around him now that he’s getting agitated. “You got caught with your hand in Talon’s cookie jar. How naughty of you.” He’s surrounding Soldier: 76 in a fog of blackness, closing in on him, cushioning his legs with his mist and holding him in place - giving him no chance to wriggle out… if only he would even try to.

“What would you have me say? It seems to me you have already written a whole play about this. I wouldn’t want to interfere while you’re having fun.” Reaper’s snarl is cut short when he registers the tone of voice, eyebrows drawing together behind his mask. There’s a moment of vertigo when he thinks he has heard it before - that he should know it from somewhere - but he shakes it off quickly enough.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you, papi?”

Soldier: 76 jerks - then tilts his head as if listening to something. When he speaks next, he sounds more serious. A little hesitant. Reaper likes this more. It feels more adequate to the situation; makes it more fun to him as he wonders how long he’ll be able to get away with playing with his toy before Talon will come and cut his fun short. Not too long, he figures; Soldier: 76 is notorious enough to warrant Talon’s increased attention, after all.

“What exactly do you want? … Reaper, isn’t it?” There’s a lilt to his gruff voice. Reaper isn’t sure whether he likes it. A jerk of the mass embracing Soldier: 76 has him swing around and slam against a high stack of crates full of illegal firearms. His resulting pained grunt is soothing Reaper’s ruffled feathers - as well as the newest nagging in the back of his mind that the way he talked had brought forth. He’d heard that before; that stupid white boy lilt that had driven him up a wall once upon a time.

He is starting to feel restless, body pressing against Soldier: 76’s back and bearing down on him until he is grunting and his breath sounds labored. Maybe that would keep the cheek in check.

“You broke into the facility of my current… associates.”

“Ah… yes… that.” He sounds a little breathless, mask scraping along the wood as he slowly turns his head, body carefully loose like he wants to seem non-threatening. “Must’ve… must’ve taken the wrong… turn. I assure you I wasn’t…” He wheezes. Reaper has put continually more pressure on the back of his shoulder blades, forcing his chest to deflate like an accordion - or maybe it was because of the hand curled around his throat and squeezing, sharp talons digging into the protective mesh wire surrounding it.

“Could you… I can’t… breathe…”

“That’s the point of it, cabron. I’m tired of listening to you. Maybe I need some more persuasive tactics to make you understand the situation you are in and that being a mouthy little shit is the last thing that could help you out of it, papi.”

He is getting more and more annoyed, the nice buzz of having successfully closed in on his prey leaving his body. Faintly, he can hear the thundering stomps of more people closing in on the warehouse. What a clusterfuck.

When the soldier answers, his voice is pitched a little lower. He sounds almost thoughtful. “You still get annoyed so easily. It always was your biggest weakness. You make mistakes when you’re angry.”

Reaper’s head rears back, the grip of his hand slackening in surprise and the main bulk of blackness returning to his body with an almost audible snap as he loses focus.

“…What.”

He doesn’t hinder the soldier from slowly lifting his hands and pushing away from the crates - even takes an accommodating step back. The Talon agents are closing in on them rapidly as Reaper stares into the orange-red of Soldier: 76’s visor and wonders how quickly a fun little mission can go south.

“Who are you.”

The soldier doesn’t talk - for once. No stupid comeback; he is just standing and staring, and Reaper loathes how it makes him feel creeped out.

“Who are you,” he hisses, hand jerking up and curling around the plating covering the lower half of Soldier: 76’s face, claws digging unforgiving into the clasps on the sides. The man doesn’t even flinch - doesn’t lift his arms in defense as Reaper rips the mask from his head.

They stare at each other quietly as the Talon agents advance. The occasional barked command can be heard.

“You still make the most mistakes when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you,” Gabriel breathes, no fire behind it, just a reactional wheeze as he struggles to remember how to breathe, watching numbly as Jack fucking Morrison lifts his arms, big pulse rifle back in his hands - How did he… - and slams it down right onto the crown of his head.

Not one of his most glorious moments.

.oOo.

“Life on the road doesn’t do you any good, old man. You look like shit.”

Gabriel’s glove is pressing down on Jack’s mouth hard enough to make him grunt, sharp talons digging in - just for fun - to draw some blood. Jack’s eyes are unnervingly bright and blue, staring right at him as a stray bullet zips through the shattered window of the little house and embeds itself into the plaster a few centimeters from his head.

Gabriel bares his teeth behind his mask and pushes closer, the darkness pulsing off of him in dark, hypnotizing waves, drawing closer around Jack’s shoulders without touching yet.

“It’s like you want to get caught, papi,” he sneers, head tilting, staring at Jack’s face - his old, scarred face. His visor is lying on the dusty ground to the side where Reaper had flung it after ripping it off his face.

Jack’s reaction is… intriguing. His eyelids lower into a lazy, heated stare, jaw relaxing a little beneath Gabriel’s harsh grip.

Gabriel grunts, pushes closer abruptly just to make Jack’s head bounce back against the wall with the jostle, then finally starts letting his darkness explore as well - barely tangible wisps of it slithering beneath the heavy leather of the jacket he wore nowadays.

“Are you mocking me?!” he hisses, eyes narrowing behind his mask and talons digging in a little deeper, drawing more blood. “Why are you not fighting? “ And then, after a beat of silence, watching Morrison carefully breathe through his nose, feeling his muscles shiver beneath the ghosting touch of his shadow tendrils: “Are you enjoying this?”

Jack’s pupils blow wide. His shoulders twist, trying to get momentum to jerk his wrists out of Reaper’s hold - but the action is half-hearted and not designed to really break free. They both know it. There is color rising in Morrison’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the blood dripping down Reaper’s claws.

When he takes the restriction away abruptly, Jack’s lips are open. He is panting. He is aroused and Gabriel hates him for it and for how excited the prospect makes him.

He stares at Morrison’s mouth and how open it is - soft and perfect, and so fucking insolent for thinking he was allowed to show off like that. Like he had any right to get his rocks off on the situation - and then decides how convenient it was for him.

“Oh Jack,” he purrs, gentle and understanding, fingers trailing lovingly along the cut of his jaw. He watches as Jack blinks in mild confusion at the shift in tone and grins wickedly behind his mask. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

Jack closes his eyes, head tilting back against the wall he is pinned to. He looks like he is hurting and enjoying it in equal measures.

“You know I did,” he rasps. His voice has changed the most, Gabriel thinks idly as he lets his darkness wander, testing the give of Jack’s biceps and the sturdy width of his hips. It is no longer the honeyed drawl of a trained orator. He probably didn’t have much of an audience any longer to hone those particular skills.

“I can make it stop hurting.” There is an almost fanatic fire burning in his belly now, driving him further, fed by the thoughts of how Jack had been before. When they still had sat together in the mess hall bumping shoulders like all the other soldiers had.

Jack doesn’t look concerned; in fact, the strain in his face relaxes a little - wrinkles softening around the corners of his mouth as he lifts his arms, unhindered by the darkness Reaper had curled around them and grips his biceps with strong hands.

“Please.”

Gabriel wonders whether any other prey had ever begged so prettily for their own demise. Morrison still was a naive country boy at heart.

Reaper steps a little back, coaxing some of his tendrils to creep up Jack’s protected neck and flick at his strong chin before slithering across his lips - and then past.

Jack’s eyes brighten from their feverish glaze, eyebrows drawing together as he obviously realizes what’s happening. His grip on Gabriel’s biceps turns painful. Clawing. However, he doesn’t try to push him away, even as his throat frantically works, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows on the barest hint of smoke sliding sinuously down first his esophagus, and then his windpipe because Gabriel is getting curious and breathless himself and he wonders what the fuck is going on.

“Always thought you were so much better than everybody else,” he whispers, body tingling, feeling himself standing firmly on the dirty floor of the little house they ducked into, yet also feeling himself filling Morrison in the most intimate way possible - slithering through his warm body and feeling how sensitive and squishy he was on the inside. “And now look at you, asshole. Lettin’ me…”

He swallows, gloved hands sliding unto Jack’s shoulders where they squeeze the firm muscle but don’t stay still - wander further up to curl around Morrison’s neck without choking him… yet. “I thought you were dead.”

Jack’s hands squeeze his biceps which is no answer at all, of course, but he lets it slide. He doesn’t want to talk about that now, anyway. What he wants to do is know how far Morrison is willing to let him go. He seems more than willing to let Gabriel fill him up to the brim, make him breathe nothing but the dark miasma evaporating from Reaper’s skin, the unfocused gaze of his milky eyes becoming even more cloudy the longer this is happening.

Before Jack can drop down from lack of real oxygen, he pulls back from his lungs, listening with dark, aroused satisfaction as Morrison immediately starts to cough and splutter, drooling past the tentacle holding his mouth open. By now Gabriel could force his way right into Jack’s stomach. For a handful of idle seconds he entertains the thought, too, but ultimately pulls back, leaving Jack heaving and doubled over as much as possible, strings of saliva and slimey darkness dripping from his lips.

“I can make it stop hurting, Jack,” he promises again, tentacles moving without pause, slipping beneath the heavy leather jacket and into the front of his pants after dexterously opening them up.

Gabriel’s clawed hands cup Morrison’s face, lifting his head up just enough to look into the mildly disoriented stare of the half-blind eyes - and to distract Jack from what was going on.

“You don’t need to feel lonely anymore. I know how much it hurts. Jack. Being alone.”

For a second, Morrison looks like he is going to sob, face crumpling and lips wobbling. Reaper is almost taken aback until he hears Jack’s soft groan; feels his hips push forward into the touch of his tentacle curled slimy and warm around the thick, ruddy jut of Morrison’s cock.

Gabriel lifts his upper lip into a toneless snarl and presses his body closer, voice dropping into a feverish murmur.

“I can give you something so you don’t feel lonely anymore. You’ll always be full of me.”

Jack hisses, eyes fluttering closed, tongue dipping out to wetten his bottom lip as the agile, thin tip of the tentacle starts lovingly sliding over and across the exposed head of Morrison’s cock, wriggling beneath the foreskin and playfully tugging at it.

Reaper watches as Jack’s tongue swipes over to the side, licking at the residue of darkness in the corner of his mouth. Jack looks, for lack of a better word, ecstatic. His previously pale, sunken cheeks with the stubble that had made him look unhealthy - like a starving hound - are filling with an excited, almost feverish shade under Gabriel’s interested eyes.

Morrison groans, hips flexing into the tantalizing touch again and again - trying to fuck the wet curl of Reaper’s tentacle and welcoming the new curious touch of another appendage against his hole with a shuffle of his feet to grant better access.

His clawing hands have wandered up onto Gabriel’s shoulders, gripping hard.

Jack looks sick and needy and Reaper would certainly not dissuade him when he feverishly rasps: “Yes, please. Please, Gabriel - I… Please.”

Like taking candy from a babe.

.–

There isn’t much left in terms of furniture, but Gabriel makes do with the back of a dusty, large armchair. It’s not like he needs Jack to be especially comfortable - he just needs to bend him over to get better access.

Morrison is, if not surprisingly, then surely hilariously helpful. He lets himself get shuffled over to the old piece of furniture and bends over easily after a few nudges, hips lifting with a hopeful, low groan.

Jack thinks he knows what Gabriel is going to give him so he wouldn’t feel lonely anymore, and he sure as hell is not going to dissuade that until he can be very sure that there won’t be any unnecessary struggle coming forth.

When Gabriel leans over Jack’s broad back, watching the familiar slope of his shoulders and the sight of the back of his neck, he feels almost a little breathless, belly tightening in a trained response to having Jack Morrison beneath him, ready to receive what he had to give.

“You’re still a slut,” Reaper purrs, hands gripping Morrison’s hips and pulling him back against the cradle of his crotch. His cock is more than interested in the proceedings and he supposes there is no harm in letting Jack know it. After all, it was a simple carrot-and-stick policy that the Strike Commander had always responded to embarrassingly well.

This time seems to be no exception as he whines - honest to God fucking whines - and pushes his ass up like one of the mangy dogs on the outskirts of town, fucking on the side of the street. Gabriel bares his teeth behind his mask and lets the sharp tips of his claws dig a little deeper than necessary into Jack’s skin.

“Yes, I know,” he soothes with false compassion, slick little tendrils tickling across the backs of Jack’s thighs like eager tongues. “You need it, Jack. I know. I can fill you up like you need. You’ll keep it inside of you when I’m done, won’t you? Keep everything nice and warm and secure inside your belly…”

Morrison feels like he is about to vibrate out of his skin, fingers curled around the edge of the dusty cushion in a death grip, feet in combat boots struggling to shuffle farther apart even though he is hobbled by his own pants. He’s not learned a damned thing about patience since the last time they’d seen each other like this.

He still has no idea what is about to happen, though he is so mindless in his need that Gabriel starts to wonder whether he’d stop him even if he knew. At the first tickle of tentacles against his balls and then his hole, Jack stiffens and stands perfectly still. Gabriel can just about hear the wet sound of his quick, nervous breathing and wants to laugh at him.

His own cock is throbbing warm and insistent in his tight pants, though he has no intentions of getting it out for Morrison tonight. Oh no. He’d jerk off later in his bunk, fantasizing about what was happening right now, thinking about how Jack would be somewhere, filled to the brim with the present Gabriel intends to give him… whimpering, distressed, horny beyond belief…

Yes. That is more to his liking.

“It’s nice of me to help you, isn’t it? You were such a hassle for my associates… and for me. You were a mouthy little shit. And now look how kind I am to you, Jackie. Looking after you like I always do.”

He is curling a slick tendril around Jack’s balls, squeezing them almost lovingly before sliding up and around the pout of his hole, muscles quivering and working beneath the curious slip-and-slide of his appendage.

Jack, for his part, turns his head and tucks it against his bicep. His shoulders are shaking even as his hips stay absolutely still, as if he was concerned that too much struggle would make Gabriel stop what he was doing.

He says something, but it is unintelligible. Gabriel starts nudging his slick tentacle in and simultaneously pricks Jack’s hip with a sharp tipped talon. Jack jumps like a rabbit whose hind legs are being held together, head jerking back. Gabriel wishes he had a mirror to see Jack’s face.

“What was that?”

“Said ‘thanks’.”

Gabriel can’t help but laugh at that; a low snicker that angers him even as it bubbles out of his chest. He doesn’t want the golden boy to make him laugh; he doesn’t want this to feel anything like the old times.

He narrows his eyes and grits his teeth in an angry, silent snarl, staring fixedly as he rudely pushes in deeper, the cone shape and wetness of the dark appendage enough to keep Jack from serious harm, even if he grunts and hisses, ass lifting and back dipping.

“Still a brat. Still think your good looks will get you anything you want. Guess what, Morrison.” He pulls all contact away, watches the desperate clench of Jack’s hole, gaping for just a second after being filled with a wriggling, curious tentacle, and listens to the audible grind of teeth. “You’re neither young nor pretty enough anymore for that shit. If you want my attention, you’re going to beg for it. If you want my present, you will have to let me know how much you want it - need it - and maybe I’ll decide that you’re worth after all.”

Jack’s head is hanging low, forehead pressed against the dusty cushion of the chair, the leather of his jacket creaking faintly as he takes in huge, gulping breaths. He is already excited beyond belief, cock ruddy and fat where it is pressed against the edge, smearing pre-cum against the fabric. Gabriel makes a rude, disgusted noise in the back of his throat and notes with interest how Morrison’s hips flex - trying to stealthily fuck against what had to be horribly scratchy against his dick.

Morrison’s mindless need amuses him to no end; mostly because Jack has no idea that it is only partly his own; that most of it has gotten nurtured and coaxed into this frenzy by Reaper himself, the slick his appendages are coated in making Morrison that much more… susceptible.

“Please… please, I… Gabriel…”

He watches as one gloved hand blindly reaches back, grabbing at the air, searching for something of Gabriel’s to hold on to. Gabriel stands where he is like a rock, watching impassively, almost clinically curious what Jack would do for the privilege of holding his old friend inside his body.

Jack squirms, one powerful wave of his body, angling up unto the tips of his booted feet to lift his ass those scant centimeters higher.

“I need you…”

“I know you do. You always did - you just were dumb enough to let others tell you that you didn’t.”

Gabriel lets one tendril snake out, ghosting it across the swell of Morrison’s ass without touching. As he stares, Morrison’s outstretched hand moves again; gripping first one cheek to offer himself up, and then, after just one frantic second of waiting, slides over, gloved fingers dragging across his hole, pushing rudely against the muscle.

“Please,” he rasps against the dusty cushion, sounding mindless. Gabriel wonders whether he had even understood what he had said. “Please, I’ll - I’ll get myself ready for you. Just– Fuck, Gabe. Need you so bad…”

Gabriel is fascinated, head tilting, watching as Jack pushes in one thick digit, the flushed ring of his muscles whitening with the sudden dry stretch. Jack Morrison would rape himself on his own fingers for his old friend, and wasn’t that a lovely sight - only that it wasn’t what Gabriel wanted tonight. Jack’s pitiful breakdown was amusing, yes, but not conductive for the long-run; and Gabriel played for keeps.

“Stop that,” he barks, hand snapping forward, catching Jack’s wrist and pulling him away. “You’re an idiot, Morrison. Can’t even beg properly. Should’ve known you’d be shit with the dirty talk.”

He sighs dramatically, eyebrows bunching as he starts to focus once more; darkness gathering around him, splitting into inquisitive, slick tentacles.

“You’re lucky. As always. I’m in a good mood…”

He trails off, attention pulled back to that little orifice and how lovely it spread for his tentacles; an easy, almost buttery slide right into Morrison’s body, his warm, silky walls clutching at him, eager to get pushed apart.

Morrison groans, long and drawn out, rocking minutely on the balls of his feet as he gets filled and filled and filled even more. The sound gets gurgled, higher-pitched, panicky as he realizes that Gabriel has slipped in deeper than any cock could; far deeper than anybody had ever touched him - and, just to fuck with his head, Gabriel moved the appendage in a powerful curl throughout his intestines.

Jack stops groaning and whines, hand shooting down now, beneath his body. Gabriel can’t see him press it against his lower belly, but he can feel it, and playfully pushes back.

Morrison starts shaking. The side of his face is drenched with sweat when he turns his head enough for Gabriel to see.

“You like that?” he purrs, stepping a little closer, cock a warm, comforting weight down his thigh. He can’t wait to get back to base and relive this glorious moment of Jack Morrison beneath him, ass up, belly filled with Gabriel’s tentacle - and admitting to how much he adored it.

“Yes… I– yes. God.” He throws his head back as he gets another undulating wave of the tentacle as a reward. It had to feel like a living creature inside his guts, wriggling and warm and spreading him open just this side of pleasurable. Who would have thought how nasty the golden boy could be?

“I can give you even more, Jack,” Gabriel croons, leaning over him, hips against his ass, trapping the tentacle between them. He rocks forward, faux-fucking his enemy, and Jack goes wild for it: presses back like a cat in heat and grunts between clenched teeth. Gabriel can feel his hole clench warm and needy around the girth of his tentacle and grins manically behind his mask.

“You want that? Want more from me, Jack? I can give you something that you’ll have for a lot longer than this silly, little thing.” He moves the tentacle in a little show, emphasizing his point; fucking Morrison on a few centimeters of it just to hear the sick squelch of the sticky, slimy secretion it was producing.

“Yes, oh god, yes - Please… fuck… oh god, Gabriel. Please.”

Gabriel moves his hips; dry humps him slow and tender, lets him feel the unforgiving metal clasps and firm leather of his belts.

“Never heard you being so polite before,” he muses, tentacle pushing down against the pressure of Jack’s hand again, letting him feel from the outside how he is getting fucked. (And how fucked he was… naive still after all those years.)

Jack is still babbling, pleading for something he doesn’t understand, as Gabriel starts to focus more - tentacles he isn’t using pulling back into the dark miasma that is pulsing around him. His energy gets redirected into creating something new: dark orbs a little smaller than his balled fist, firm and smooth. He can see them wandering through the length of the tentacle; a midnight black in midst of the ghostly grey, sliding unerringly along the pulsing length, pushed along by the contractions.

Jack doesn’t feel a thing when the first one passes into him; the tentacle has made sure of that: spreading him steady and gentle, fucking him until his rim was puffy and soft, simply yielding to the intrusion. Submissive to the last.

Gabriel feels his own belly churning, clenching in want, breath getting short. He’d not even thought about how much it would affect himself. How seeing his essence slip into Jack’s body to be deposited there for days would wreck havoc on him. He’d be able to feel Jack just as much as Morrison would be able to feel him - maybe more so.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Jack finally realizes that something is strange. The third egg drops into a pouch of his intestines, snuggling up to the two already there and adding to the growing weight and volume that makes his belly bulge. Jack stiffens, head jerking up, alert, alarmed, mildly panicked.

“What is-”

Gabriel is already there, hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him back down.

“I’m filling you up, Jackie. Just like you begged me to.”

Jack’s voice, surprisingly gravelly nowadays, amusingly climbs an octave. He sounds breathless and maybe a little scared. Gabriel bites back on a groan and instead lets the fourth egg start wandering.

“What are you doing? What.. what is that?”

He imagines Jack’s hand carefully prodding at his belly, trying to figure out what was going on. He could feel it any longer, until - until he could feel it, and the twin sensations coming from the tentacle squirming inside the clutch of his body and the tickling of the eggs as they get gently moved and jostled, make his head pound.

“Stop that,” he hisses, eyes becoming slits of arousal behind his mask as the tip of the tentacle spreads open farther and farther, gently pushing out the fourth egg to lay carefully into the clutch already filling Morrison’s belly.

Morrison whimpers beneath him at the added weight and shifts his feet together to accommodate the new swell of his guts, lifting his belly from the backrest of the armchair.

What a good, obedient boy he is.

“I’m filling you up, Jackie,” Gabriel hums, the fifth and last orb forming and starting in on the leisurely journey. They have all night, after all; the gunfire has long since died down. “I’m going to fill you to the brim, and you’re going to let me do it because you need it. You’ll still have them when I’m gone. You’ll be able to feel them for days; shifting and sloshing in your body. You’re going to be so bloated with me, you’ll only be able to waddle.”

Jack’s hips jerk violently and he groans again, low and with feeling, shoulders shaking. He is not fighting against it, even as he’s trying to deny his greed for the treatment. Gabriel can’t feel a single contraction of his intestines; not one time Jack bore down and tried to push him out.

He is practically vibrating beneath Gabriel, and he can feel him move his hand again - a little frantic now, sliding across the swell of his belly, feeling up the hardness of the orbs through his skin, trying to count them out and inadvertently moving them along the warm, spongy canal for just a few centimeters before he stops and lets them settle back where Reaper laid them.

They both take shuddering breaths. Reaper can feel Jack breathing with his belly; the sway and movement of the orbs disorienting as much as it is pleasurable.

(Suddenly he gets second thoughts about his brilliant plan; he hadn’t thought of how much it would affect him; how sensitive he would be to the secret clutch of eggs he put into Morrison’s belly.)

Jack his canting his hips, rocking them, hunching them forward again and again, rubbing his cock along nothing as far as Gabriel was concerned; fucking on pure instinct of getting filled and spread open - an animal response to Gabriel leaning across his back and holding him down.

He is sweating and whining and fucking helplessly and for a wild second Gabriel wonders if Jack is going to have a fucking stroke.

When he carefully deposits the last egg, Jack is biting into the leather of his glove and his milky eyes are only half-open. He would look serene - almost sleepy - if it weren’t for the tight clench of his jaw and the abrupt uncoordinated jerks of his hips. He is so very quiet; no sound coming from him as his belly hangs in the air, swollen from the black orbs filling him, straining against the rigid confines of his leather jacket.

When Gabriel steps back - unsteady, swaying, knees feeling embarrassingly weak and cock pounding in his fatigues - Jack stays right where he is, not moving a muscle.

Before he can muster an idle thought of jerking him off, his gaze falls between Morrison’s thighs and the mess he made there: cum is splattered across the back of the armchair and against the tops of his thighs.

Gabriel wonders what did it for him more: to get fucked as deep as never before, or to get filled up bit by bit by eggs.

He thought he knew the answer, and it was bringing him a dark, wild kind of satisfaction. Morrison truly was a freak.

“You’ll take good care of them, won’t you?” And then after a beat of silence he adds with a wicked grin: “Papi?”

Morrison groans like a drunk and stays right where he is. Gabriel leaves him like that: without another word, without an explanation. He enjoys the thought of Morrison panicking at the eggs in his belly. He enjoys thinking about the things he might get up to in his desperation to get them out.

He’d have to keep a close eye on Jackie.

What a good, obedient boy he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	91. Roadhog/Reaper Slut Shaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bless you and that anon who were talking about roadhog/reaper because holy shit it's been on my mind. Rutledge being rude and manhandling Reaper like a ragdoll so he can feel him up, admire his body or get him into whatever position he feels like. Jack's off to the side thinking someone's about to die- it's Gabriel and you can't just throw him around like that. until he realizes Gabe's grinning because he never gets it like this, he's loving it, and he wants a rude fuck so bad he can't stand it

Jack can’t help but think that he had the best luck once his sleepy brain had caught up with the situation at hand: namely Rutledge fucking Gabriel on one of the couches in the rec room, deep dicking him into the cushions with powerful thrusts that were accompanied by low, earthy grunts.

He was almost sure Gabriel would have told him about the encounter (would have gloated how much cock he still got apart from Jack’s, purring at him how hard he came on other dicks, goading him into trying harder) but seeing it for himself was infinitely better.

He couldn’t keep from staring at Gabriel’s feet in the air; how big they were and how almost fucking dainty the looked now with Rutledge’s meaty fists curled around the ankles, keeping Reaper’s legs in the air and spread wide. He was helpless, scrabbling at the cushions, shirt rucked up into his armpits, taking Hog’s thrusts like a doll.

He wondered how it could’ve come to this. He’s left Gabriel watching some shitty TV show, feeling his age catching up with him and going to bed early - only to come back to this.

“You’re a lazy fuck,” Roadhog accused, hips stilling. His belly was looking ridiculously huge between Gabriel’s thighs; the smooth, tattooed expense rubbing against Reaper’s sweaty abs. Jack could just about see the swollen head of Gabriel’s cock peek out, smashed between their bellies. Everything looked slick and shiny.

“Yeah?” Gabriel sounded breathy. Almost simpering. Jack’s mouth ran dry, feet moving him closer. He saw the snout of Rutledge’s mask tilt in his direction for a moment but the huge man didn’t say anything to acknowledge him.

“Morrison spoiled the shit outta you. Couldn’t get a penny for a lazy whore like you. Get your ass up, c’mon.”

The last was accompanied with Hog letting go of Gabriel’s legs and stepping away, big cock sliding out with a wet, obscene sound. Jack’s sharp inhale got drowned out by Reaper’s whine and mad scramble to turn around, forcing his loose limbs into obedience. The thick muscles in his thighs were quivering, his dark eyes huge and sightless in a way Jack hadn’t seen yet.

Mako didn’t bother sliding back in right away. Rather, he stood for a while longer, huge fist around his cock, slowly jerking off while admiring the sight of Gabriel’s broad shoulders and wide hips. From the back, he was almost obscenely curvy.

Mako felt him up with one hand; the give of his ass and hardness of his thighs; the sweaty expanse of his belly. Jack watched as two thick fingers slide beneath the rucked up shirt and tug sharply at the sweaty hair under his arm, until Gabriel was squirming and biting into the cushion on the back of the couch.

He didn’t protest; probably was afraid Rutledge wouldn’t fuck him if he made too much of a fuss, and Jack wanted to know Mako’s secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	92. Roadhog/DVa

What Roadhog wanted, Roadhog got.

There was no discussion about it when he snatched D.Va from her shimmy between sofa and table, and draped her across his lap, or how he hooked two thick fingers into the back of her tight leggings and pulled them down to reveal her lack of panties to the room.

D.Va got excited by the treatment and the others simply… stared. There was not much they could do, other than sit and watch, mouths going dry and cheeks growing hot; cocks fattening in a pathetic, immediate response to D.Va’s squealing and the sight of her plump cunt peeking just about out between her thighs.

Roadhog’s meaty hand looked obscene on her ass, the black, chipped paint on his nails drawing attention to him sliding a finger between the flushed lips of her cunt, spreading them open and nudging with an air of negligent entitlement against her opening. She squirmed and tilted her ass up for it, tried opening her knees wider in the hobble of her pants; none of her usual teasing denial to be found when Hog wanted to play.

The others stared, sitting on their hands, mouths flooding with saliva at the sight of her candy pink snatch getting spread on a fat finger; her wriggling and cooing breathlessly when he pushed in deeper - dipped right into the heat of her body without even looking at her.

He was watching TV as he fingered her lazily; fucked the little cunt open on his middle finger, then used her juices to slip farther down between her legs and tap against the fat swell of her clit to make her squeal painfully high and jump in his lap.

When he got bored, he slid further down on the sofa as it groaned in protest under his weight. D.Va was like a ragdoll in his grasping large hands, thick rings on his fingers glinting in the light as he pulled her easily up and deposited her across the large, gently moving swell of his gut.

It was easier to spread her legs like that and show her hairy cunt off to the room at large. Let the rest of them see what he was getting while they could only sit and watch, cocks tenting their pants and hands firmly not anywhere near them.

He laughed when he used two fingers to craftily pull her plump, wet folds apart. A deep, ominous sound full of contempt while D.Va groaned and rubbed her cheek against the smooth, warm skin of his belly and chest - content to be his doll.

Hog didn’t always fuck her on his cock; sometimes, like today, he was content to spread her wide on his fingers and torture her clit until she came for him, body shaking, cunt clamping down visibly, a little squirt forced from her in her mindless excitement about the rough treatment.

For him, she was a pain slut; cunt held open by the V of his fingers, her clit sitting shockingly fat at the apex of her folds, peeking out and visible even from the awkwardness of her position.

When the others moved, creeping closer, crowding in to get a better look - torturing themselves with the sight - Hog reached down to tap against the swollen nub once, sharp, a heavy almost slap that had her whine and jump, opening visibly clenching.

In Hog’s opinion, the reaction of those pathetic idiots was even more entertaining than the telly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	93. McCree/Hanzo Gloryhole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about some gloryhole love? There's a bathroom stall in Gibraltar that nobody speaks about openly... But there's always rumors circling that if you go there at the right time there's a lovely mouth/hole there to help sate you. (Maybe with Mercy or Hanzo serving? Whatever you fancy though!)

There always was a line at this time of day - lazy afternoon, that was. Not too long - but a line nonetheless.

McCree was in front, head tilted, listening to the happenings inside the bathroom as his fingers were already working on his belt buckle. Jack was behind, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring into nothing. Behind him, Reinhardt was checking through his communications, dressed down for the occasion with just a tanktop and sweatpants - for easy access.

The door opened and Lúcio stepped out, eyes shiny and teeth bared in a broad, happy grin. He bumped his knuckles against McCree’s outstretched fist in a greeting and sauntered down the hall without another word while McCree slipped inside with an eager, slightly clumsy amble; his groin felt almost uncomfortably swollen, making him walk a little funny as he made a bee line for the open stall, popping the buttons of his fly open.

Nobody talked about that sweet little mouth on the other end; so soft and open, always eager to liberally drool over whatever cock was shoved rudely through the hole - but it wasn’t hard to guess who was on the other side, either.

The neatly trimmed, black beard was too distinctive to be anybody else but him.

McCree had never spoken to him beyond low grunts and muttered curses - he felt like that would spoil the fun. Maybe shatter the magic. He had no fucking idea.

He was hard and excited and Hanzo made a soft sound of delight at seeing how swollen he already was; the glans peeking from the fleshy foreskin, ready for his eager, gentle lips to push it back, bare it to his tongue slowly, leisurely rounding the smooth, ripe head.

McCree sighed, eyes closing, forehead leaning against the arms he had stacked against the wall.

“Yeah that’s it. That’s the spot. Yeaaah.” He groaned like a man getting his back scratched, hips gently fucking forward through the hole into the eager mouth presented just on the other side. He could feel the head rub against the soft palette, nudging against the resistance of Hanzo’s throat, and rumbled in appreciation when the other man swallowed around him, working, sucking, licking - making a mess out of the whole encounter.

McCree’s toes curled in his boots, balls feeling hot and swollen like grapefruits as he heard the slurping from the other side, and tried to imagine Hanzo’s lips pursed over the head of his cock, licking the pre-cum right from the source.

When he pulled back to cuddle with the cock, McCree could feel the soft scratch of his facial hair against his shaft - could feel himself nudge against Hanzo’s cheekbone.

“Goddamn, darlin’. Would pay you to jerk off into your hair, ain’t gonna lie.”

There was a soft sound on the other side at that; a low, strangled moan - Hanzo’s lips descending back on his cock, sucking him almost forcefully in, cheeks hollowed enough that McCree could feel them cushioning his dick.

“Goddamn,” he swore low and with feeling, kicking one dusty boot tip against the dividing wall, hips taking up in speed.

He didn’t know what they would do without their stress relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	94. Ana/McCree Femdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana/McCree. Young McCree is Ana's kept boy. He eats her out with his hands held dutifully behind his back while she drinks tea and idly pets/praises/commands him. If you want Gabe to be there too, sharing a cup, I wouldn't be opposed.

“How did training go?”

“Satisfying, I suppose. They all hit the mark, at least.”

Ana watches Gabriel over the rim of her cup, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she watches him take a sip, fingers curled around the warm porcelain because he felt stupid properly holding it between his big fingers.

It still looked cute in his large, dark hand, against the backdrop of his unamused face, hoodie pulled deep into his eyes.

She leaned farther back and closed her eyes, sighing softly as Jesse used her new position to nudge in farther beneath her skirt, tongue warm and soft as he was lapping eagerly through her folds with renewed enthusiasm.

Reyes’ gaze slid down, watching the shaggy back of the recruit’s head as he nuzzled in, bumping his nose against Ana’s clit and getting his scruffy little beard sticky with her juices.

“How’s that training going?” he asks, nodding towards him.

Ana grins and lifts one lovely, dark leg to drape it across Jesse’s shoulder, the fingers of her free hand carding through his tangled hair to tug and then decisively pull him back.

“Goes rather well,” she purrs, voice smokey. She uses her grip to turn Jesse around, intentionally flashing her swollen, naked cunt at Gabriel who looked indecisive for a second what to stare at - Ana’s lovely pussy or Jesse’s sticky face, eyes glazed over and slanted back towards his prize.

“If only he were as focused doin’ his fuckin’ workouts as he is eating pussy,” Reyes rumbles. Ana laughs at him - a little breathless after letting go of McCree and he surges back beneath her skirt with renewed vigor.

She can’t help but cup her breast, squeezing it and pinching one erect nipple through the fabric of her dark blouse. Gabriel doesn’t complain about it - just as she figured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	95. Reinhardt/Reaper Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the possible ficlet prompts- Indulging in the whole Reinhardt/Reaper edging idea. (never enough content for my favorite knight)

They both were staring down between their bodies, watching how the dark, wet tip of Reaper’s cock peeked out of Reinhardt’s slick fist before disappearing again.

Gabriel’s mouth hung open, breath soft and panting, eyes huge as he watched with morbid curiosity as the big, slick fist move on his dick; let the tip emerge to the cold air of the room, fleshy foreskin pulled back for the sensitive glans to be on full display.

Every now and then, shimmery drops of pre-cum shivered on the slit. Reinhardt hummed at the sight, thumb sliding up and above, swiping the moisture away. Gabriel could just watch helplessly, forearms on the old man’s shoulders.

Sitting on his broad lap like this was making the experience even worse; Reinhardt felt like a solid, living furnace, close and unrelenting, one tree trunk arm slung around Reaper’s hips to keep him as close as possible.

There was no way past him. He was surrounding him fully, large and impenetrable, and unfailingly gentle as he drove Gabriel to insanity.

“Let me come,” he grit out, hips rocking up into the fist, balls feeling painfully sensitive and swollen.

“Later,” Reinhardt promised, good eye carefully watching Gabriel’s face. As he stares, he starts playing with his foreskin - tugging on it, pushing it back over the tip, rubbing it through the skin with insistent, small circles of his thumb.

Gabriel’s eyes widened, breath pushing from him in a forceful grunt. His hips lift, in a helpless buck, arms sliding to grip Reinhardt’s shoulders.

“Fuck. Fuck!” he growled, voice high and a little watery, balls pulsing and ripe. He can’t help but reach down and hold them; cup them towards his body as if that would help the lust bubbling through his belly and crawling up towards his chest. His hips felt dangerously lose and hot - so eager to finally start hunching into Reinhardt’s slick fist and fuck it like a pretty cunt.

“Hands back on my shoulders, Schätzchen,” Reinhardt reminded him, hand leaving his cock suddenly and without warning; leaving it to bob free and sad in the cool air. It looked painfully swollen just as his balls, long and thick, drooping under its own weight to nudge beneath Reinhardt’s belly button and drool liberally into the grey, thick tangle of hair growing there.

“No… fuck.. fuck you,” he whined, hand clenching tight around his balls, breath coming in shuddering, pre-sob gasps. His eyes were stinging, throat pulled tight. He knew he’d be able to come if he were to fuck into Reinhardt’s bush. He didn’t need a lot at this point. The warm, humid tangle of hair would be enough. Just rut against him and cream his pubes; snuggle his cock up to the large dick resting heavy against one huge thigh.

Fuck, he was so close.

“Gabriel…”

He did sob, then; tears of frustration in his eyes, nose starting to run as he bit his lips and furiously kept his tears at bay as he finally took his hand off his balls and placed it back onto Reinhardt’s shoulder.

“Very good. I think a few more, and then we’ll go to bed.”

Gabriel clenched his eyes shut, breath shuddering out of him, belly feeling tight and hot. He knew he had lost the privilege to come for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	96. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Mccree actually jerking it into his hair?

Hanzo needed to be in a special mood to tolerate McCree’s weirder shit - lucky for him that Hanzo was a huge slut and very easy to be put in those special moods.

“Stay down now, darlin’,” he crooned, big foot pressing down onto Hanzo’s cock, watching the man’s face go slack, mouth soft and open as he nodded eagerly.

He reached for McCree’s hairy ankle, curling his hands around it - just to hold on as he got his cock gently crushed beneath his toes and the warm sole of his foot.

“Freak,” McCree rumbled indulgently, tongue rolling his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other as he reached for Hanzo’s hair tie and pulled it off none too gently. Hanzo made a choked off sound of lust at the feeling of getting his hair pulled, dark liquid eyes becoming positively black with pupil when McCree reached into the tangle of his hair and took a generous hand full, pulling him forward.

“Yeah. You like that alright. Such a slut… Aahh no. Keep your mouth closed. That’s it. I know that’s hard for ya. You love my cock dont’cha?”

Hanzo was staring up at him with an expression of dumb, animal adoration as McCree rubbed his cock along his chin, smearing pre-cum into his goatee and across his lips. He could see the slim nostrils flaring and grinned, rudely dragging his cock along Hanzo’s mustache, letting him smell it.

Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth dropping open after all. He tried to tilt his head into it - offering his cheeks up for rude slaps of McCree’s cock, cheeks flushing with eager humiliation over the treatment.

“You look so happy,” McCree murmured, eyes heavy lidded, fingers carding with rough affection through Hanzo’s hair. “I bet you would be thankful for anything I gave you, hm?”

Hanzo nodded, a low, gurgling groan coming from the back of his throat. He was trying to snuggle as much with McCree’s cock as he was trying to make him pull his hair - which gave him an idea in and off itself.

He grinned, toes curling against Hanzo’s trapped cock. He bit the tip of his tongue as he pulled him even closer, mashing Hanzo’s pretty yakuza prince face into the humid heat of his crotch, shoving his cock into the inky, thick hair and helping along to cover it with a fist full of the tangled mess.

He doubted Hanzo even realized what he was doing - he was too busy mouthing at his balls and trying to suck them into his mouth, getting everything messy with drool.

Oh but he would notice later when the slutty haze would lift - how sticky his hair had become from Jesse rudely fucking a fist full of it, jerking off into the dark strands and unloading his full balls in them.

A pity Hanzo couldn’t appreciate how he wiped the last few drops into the grey whiskers at his temples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	97. Zenyatta/McCree/Hanzo

When McCree bounced, his whole body was in motion - from the thick meat of his thighs over the generous curve of his ass to the pouch on his belly. Even his pecs jiggled if he got only fucked hard enough, large barrel chest heaving, shaggy head thrown back in ecstasy.

McCree was, all in all, a very pleasing human to look at. Zenyatta’s favorite, in fact. He loved witnessing McCree’s pleasure; the way he easily started sweating, ample body hair matting against his skin, breath coming in huge gulping, rattling gasps that shook his frame just as much as Hanzo’s arduous fucking.

Zenyatta was fascinated by him - couldn’t, in fact, keep his fingers from that delightful, sturdy frame, carefully carding warm metal digits through the thick hair on his quivering thighs, pinching the muscle and fat between them, or sliding over the jiggling flesh of his hips to the heave of his belly, pressing down with the palm of his hand to feel the resistance of those spring steel muscles beneath the soft exterior.

McCree was everything Zenyatta was not. He was without abandon; a huge man towering above many his compatriots, with a will of steel and yet so ready to bend down for their benefit, laughing the whole way; so ready to let himself get pushed onto his back, willingly opening his long legs and showing off the dark, furry crack of his ass - long, thick cock nearly second to the wild, intriguing tangle of his pubic hair.

He was wild and unkempt and absolutely unapologetic about it. He was impressive. So very, very… impressive -

And Zenyatta wished he had the sensors to enjoy him in all his glory. To be able to feel the crisp texture of his coarse body hair and smell the thick spice of his aftershave, or the…

“Damn… Hanzo,” he grunted, half laughing half exasperated, trying to accommodate the archer’s head as he shoved it beneath one impressive biceps, nuzzling into the thatch of dark hair there even as his hips kept pumping, twisting, snapping, McCree’s plush ass cushioning the thrusts with noisy slaps.

Zenyatta hummed, hand smoothing gently across Hanzo’s head, voice holding a note of longing as he cooed: “You love smelling him, don’t you?”

And McCree, over Hanzo’s low, delirious, assenting groan, just laughed at them. Deep, breathless belly laughs that had his body moving, brown, gentle eyes trying to peek at them.

“Ya’ll are crazy,” he drawled, roguish grin on his face melting into something softer, full with adoration as Zenyatta cradled his large head between his hands and leaned above him, nuzzling the his smooth faceplate against the wild, sweaty mess of his face.

“You are extraordinary,” he promised him solemnly, staying where he was to let him kiss sloppy and wet all over his golden chrome jaw and the seam on his faceplate. He couldn’t feel it, yet he loved it all the same.

He reached for one dark, oval nipple, tweaking it carefully with modulated strength. McCree was trapped between their bodies and seemed content to wait out whatever they had in store for him; his big, powerful body relaxed and lazy, long, thick cock lying on the cushion of his own pudgy belly, making a sticky mess out of the hair there.

Such a curious human being. So very, very pleasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	98. McCree/Hanzo Puppy Play

When Hanzo came back to his rooms - lunch tray in hand - McCree had already stripped out of his clothes and taken his place in the middle of the room where he knelt, and immediately lit up at seeing his Master. He looked comfortable with the situation and the world at large, scars glinting silkily on his brown skin. Beneath Hanzo’s thoughtful stare, he started preening, pecs bouncing as he playfully tensed the muscles there in rapid succession.

Hanzo snorted softly, eyes drawn to the large, dark nipples in their nest of dark chest hair. Already, his belly felt warm, shoulders loosening from their rigidity of the day.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, almost hidden by the whiskers of his beard. McCree, eyes sharp as ever, saw it all the same, his broad shoulders squaring, chest pushing out as he angled himself forward without moving from his position on the floor.

Even naked and kneeling he looked intimidatingly large. Wild and unkempt. A beast that was a force to be reckoned with. Jesse was a huge dog, yet all the more gentle for it; brown eyes always faithful, body open and vulnerable for his Master’s perusal. Hanzo had yet to experience him denying him any part of his exquisite physique.

“Stay,” Hanzo admonished when the wide hips started lifting off the ground, fingers curling into the thick carpet as Jesse got read to move, obviously wanting to get closer and greet his owner. He stopped mid-motion, shaggy head lifting, soulful eyes tracking first Hanzo’s face, then the tray in his hands, before he slowly lowered himself back down.

His thick, hirsute thighs moved apart easily to make the crouch more comfortable, unabashedly showing off the thick length of his cock hanging heavy and mostly soft between them.

“Good boy,” Hanzo praised softly, gaze lingering, watching the pouch of McCree’s belly, the flex of his thick biceps idly tensing and releasing as his attention shifted towards the meal on the plate, the dark, dense hair starting on his elbow and dusting down his thick, powerful forearm.

“Arms behind your back, boy.”

McCree’s gaze jerked up from the plate towards Hanzo’s face, but he moved without protest; reaching behind himself and grasping his forearms, attention pulled back to the tray, nostrils flaring, mouth dropping open slack and greedy as he caught a scent of the meat on the plate.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Hanzo hummed to fill the silence, drifting over towards the desk to place the tray down. With his back turned to Jesse, he couldn’t stop the wide grin breaking free at the growling bark from behind. “You’ll get yours in a moment. First, though…”

He opened the desk drawer, fingertips petting along the smooth leather edge of Jesse’s collar before carefully lifting it out.

When he turned around, Jesse’s gaze immediately zeroed in on the item, face breaking out into a huge smile, broad back straightening from his slouch. God, but he was big - no sharp edges on his body to be seen; everything rounded and thick, and covered in dark fur.

He looked powerful, and Hanzo felt an indecent surge of satisfaction at how easily the huge body bent to his will - how willingly, eagerly McCree wanted him to take charge.

Hanzo took his time placing the collar around his pup’s sturdy neck; taking care to brush the shaggy, long hair out of the way to not snag any in the clasp, fingers slipping between leather and throat to test the space. He then sat back on his haunches, fingertip sliding along the studs pressed into the leather, and ending at the metal tag with Jesse’s name. It clinked softly as he fingered it, Jesse’s chin lifting with pride and lazy giddiness, the corners of his mouth stretching in a feral grin, tongue lolling out dark red and pretty.

He seemed to go down into his head quickly tonight, and Hanzo couldn’t say that he minded. Jesse always was such a good, obedient puppy; eager to please and robust - his body made to take a good, deep fucking and give back just as much as he got.

Hanzo got caught thinking back to their last encounter - McCree’s fat ass lifted high into the air, the dark hair dusting his cheeks soft against Hanzo’s hips as he had mounted and fucked him, the warm, dark space gripping him, suckling him in, welcoming him into Jesse’s body just as much as the low, groaning barks he had fucked out of him, the sight of those wide, scarred shoulders braced against the floor doing things to Hanzo…

He jerked out of his thoughts as Jesse leaned forward, nuzzling the side of his owner’s face, arms still obediently behind his back. He whined high and canine, and Hanzo couldn’t have brought himself to deny him even if he had wanted to.

“Hello, boy,” he greeted in a low voice, hand placed low on Jesse’s belly, friendly and welcoming - and it was like a dam broke, his pup abruptly angling farther into his Master’s space, tongue coming out wet and hot as he dragged it across Hanzo’s cheek and ear and neck in sloppy, eager licks.

His eyes closed, hips abruptly feeling loose and warm. He was almost shocked at how needy he was for this tonight - how a simple act such as Jesse greeting him with his tongue and enthusiasm was already riling him up this fast. His fingers twitched against his pup’s belly as he got pushed back by the sheer excited bulk of Jesse’s body, having to brace himself with his free hand to not get toppled over. Beneath his palm, he could feel the coarse hair and warm, inviting chub of his stomach, and underneath that the robust wall of hard worker muscle shifting and tensing as Jesse shuffled forward on his knees. He nudged obnoxiously beneath Hanzo’s jaw, placing wet puppy kisses against his throat and into the soft space beneath his chin, his tag tinkling high and relentless with his movements.

Hanzo could feel the hungry gurgle of Jesse’s gut beneath the firm press of his hand, though the meal seemed to have taken a backseat to Jesse’s play, and - yes - horniness, if the wet nudge against Hanzo’s wrist was anything to go by.

He grunted as he stemmed back against the bulk of muscle, the sharp toes of his mechanical feet digging into the ground to give him better leverage at pushing Jesse’s back into his place on his ass. Jesse huffed but stayed, letting Hanzo look him up and down once more. They were both breathless from their little tussle, hair dishevelled, chests heaving. Jesse was grinning at him, tongue still lolling and wet, and Hanzo could feel saliva dry tacky against his skin.

He hummed thoughtfully and placed a palm square against Jesse’s hairy chest, keeping all that power at bay just by sheer force of will. Hanzo had no illusions that Jesse would be able to overpower him if it was just them in hand-to-hand combat - Jesse knew too many dirty tricks and had the physical advantage. Since McCree had no intention to fight, however, - quite the opposite, in fact - it was more than easy to keep him contained. He simply wanted to play - to show how content he was with the arrangement… as if Hanzo wouldn’t have been able to see for himself: Jesse’s cock had filled out now, lifting in a tantalizing curve from the dark tangle of his pubes. It was darker than the rest of his body - flushed a ruddy red, the tip sleek and with almost no flare compared to the thick, long shaft.

It was a nice looking cock - as sturdy and fat as the rest of his body… and just as eager it seemed, as it jerked beneath Hanzo’s appraising gaze, tapping against Jesse’s lower belly and getting the thick hair there tacky with moisture.

“Naughty puppy,” Hanzo scolded with a smirk, one hand carding through Jesse’s hair, trying to put it back into a semblance of order while the other started rubbing the man’s belly with affectionate vigor; fingers raking through dense hair, slipping through the little, furry valley of his belly button and sliding along the fold his stomach got when he was sitting slumped like he was now.

His pup’s cock flexed slowly, Jesse’s pupils dilating as his breathing started slowing and evening out, a low growling rumble sliding from his throat at getting his belly pet.

“We can play before having dinner, I suppose… it has been a while since we got to indulge, after all, hasn’t it?” He was prattling the innate babble of an owner towards their pet and could feel the tips of his ears warm in embarrassment, though he wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if he had wanted to.

Jesse didn’t seem to mind in any case - to the contrary: he huffed and preened, suddenly lowering his shoulders close to the ground in front of Hanzo - trying to contort his huge body into a form that was smaller; more suited for being playful and cute.

He looked silly and Hanzo had to press the ball of his hand rudely down on his cock to stem the sudden, acute want to mount his pup and fuck him into the ground.

Jesse never seemed embarrassed about his own desires like Hanzo often was; he simply enjoyed the moment: tongue lolling out in a happy grin, body loose and so hot Hanzo could feel it radiating off of him like a fever before he shifted once more in his mindless, animal eagerness - rolling onto his back and offering up his belly for more scratches. His knees fell open into an easy, wide sprawl, arms up above his head, showing off the dark hair beneath in his pits.

“Oh Jesse,” Hanzo sighed - cooed - and let himself take what was so obviously on offer: both hands rubbing the thick, exposed belly, alternating between short, harsh scrubs and long leisurely rotations with the balls of his hands pressing into the soft fat until he could feel the thick layer of muscle beneath.

McCree’s scruffy chin tilted up, the nametag glinting in the dip of his clavicle.

When Hanzo leaned down to suck hickeys into the soft flesh high on his sturdy hip, Jesse sighed - and when he let a hand wander simultaneously to play with those large, dark nipples, squeezing and rolling the swollen tips between his fingers, Jesse started chuffing like an engine; a rumbling groan that rolled right out of his chest.

Hanzo turned his head, leaving the spit-slick, darkening spot on McCree’s hip to cool on the air as he watched himself play with those hairy tits; how inviting the dark brown nipples looked like this: the fat tips pinched with carefully calculated force between Hanzo’s fingers until Jesse started howling, broad back arching off the ground, and cock messily glancing off Hanzo’s chest and upper belly, dabbing sticky pre-cum onto his skin.

For a moment Hanzo wondered what it would be like if Jesse had his nipples pierced - small, dainty rings of silver that made them look even more juicy… or big jewelry fit to hook a leash into and lead him around on…

… maybe have himself a little calf instead of a little pup every once in awhile…

“God,” he whispered, a little shocked by his own depravity, cock jerking where it was trapped in his underwear. He could feel the fabric already wetting through and clinging to the head of his drooling dick.

Jesse’s cheeks were flushed, mouth dropped open and the tip of his tongue peeking out while he panted fast and shallow, face guileless as he stared down at Hanzo and wriggled his broad hips, a needy whine caught in his throat - trying so desperately to draw attention to his swaying, bobbing cock… And even though Hanzo hadn’t planned on giving him this particular treat so soon, he found himself relenting anyway.

There definitely was something to be said about Jesse McCree’s goddamned puppy dog eyes.

He gave McCree’s right nipple a last pinch, then cupped the hairy pec to squeeze it lovingly, thumb rubbing across the coarse, thick hair before he trailed his fingers lower across the heaving expanse of Jesse’s belly - noting how he tried to hold his breath, hips shimmying from side to side, so fucking eager for a treat that he hadn’t even earned yet if they were being honest. When he finally curled them around the thick shaft jutting obscenely towards him, he found himself idly wondering whether he wanted to have it tonight; feel it spreading him open and filling him up…

He gazed down at Jesse - how huge his eyes were, big and brown and begging him to continue, nipples looking swollen and puffy from Hanzo’s mean pinches…

Hanzo was so very weak for him.

Jesse’s head fell back onto the ground at the first pump he received, wide hips jerking into the touch, fucking up into the loose fist Hanzo offered.

“That’s it… good boy,” he murmured, fingers sliding along the length and tickling across the smooth tip before wandering even further down. He rubbed through the humid nest of dark hair at the base scratching gently, petting it like he would pet a dog behind the ears.

“You have such a lovely cock. It’s always so obedient. Showing me all it’s tricks.”

Jesse groaned, heels scrabbling restlessly across the floor, one meaty forearm flung across his eyes as his cock jerked violently against Hanzo’s knuckles as if prompted. Jesse’s throat was darkening. Maybe Hanzo had discovered something that his boy was embarrassed about, after all.

“Think I can teach it some new tricks?” he purred, fingers curling around the heavy sack of Jesse’s balls, thumb rubbing across the warm, loose skin.

Jesse whimpered at that; short and high - a choked off sound as his curving cock flexed and bobbed, smearing more moisture against his belly.

His thighs were quivering beautifully, and giving Hanzo an even better idea than his previous idle thoughts of letting himself get mounted.

He abruptly pulled his hands back, and gave Jesse’s thigh a sharp smack when the pup started whining in protest.

“None of that now. Go and fetch your leash, pet.”

He sat for a moment longer, watching the frankly mesmerizing sight of the massive body moving - wide hips swaying, back a solid, broad wall littered with greyish scars, the crack of his ass a dark, humid place Hanzo loved to shove his face into. Like this, Jesse’s whole body was in motion - muscles constantly moving, fat bouncing; everything shifting in delicious, surprisingly elegant harmony…

God, but McCree was a gorgeous man - and he knew it, too, the vain bastard.

He was preening again when he came crawling back, head held high, thin black leash between his teeth, showing off his unusually sharp canines. He seemed to think he’d get away with everything, too - shoving his face right into Hanzo’s crotch and nosing against the large, wet spot there, his breath tantalizing and cool through the moist fabric as he snuffled eagerly.

Hanzo hissed, hands burying in the long, shaggy hair, pulling Jesse’s head back none too gently.

“Cheeky.”

He took the leash from Jesse and couldn’t help but smile at the plain happiness on the pup’s face.

He clipped the leash in at the front of Jesse’s collar before his pet could charm his way into getting his will after all.

.o.

“Good boy,” Hanzo murmured and, when Jesse pulled softly against his leash, sweat rolling down his temples, he curled the thin leather once more around his fist, forcing Jesse to bend down for him.

Like this, he was close enough for Hanzo to feel his warm breath, tongue lolling out dark red and wet, eyes large and friendly even as he ground down impatiently onto his Master’s thigh, trying desperately to come like this.

“Gorgeous,” Hanzo crooned, free hand lifting to the side of Jesse’s face, fingers carding into the long hair to pull it from the wet corner of his mouth and push it behind his ear - after all, his pet wasn’t allowed to use his hands once more; arms behind his back, biceps swelling with the unrelenting grip he had on his forearms, trying so hard for Hanzo not to lose patience and grab for his cock.

Hanzo pulled unrelentingly on the leash, watching Jesse’s pupils go dark with need, the tendons on his neck straining as he fought against the drag, so he wouldn’t topple over. His warm, humid balls dragged along the top of Hanzo’s thigh, swollen, pulsing cock rubbing against the dark hair beneath his belly button.

His whole body was working towards his goal; muscles bulging, belly heaving, thighs quivering in the constant half-crouch he was forced into, straddling Hanzo’s thigh, trying his hardest to get off and only managing to work himself up into a frenzy, thick pre-cum dribbling from his slit.

Jesse needed help getting off, and Hanzo was almost loathe to give it to him - the sight he made was too tempting; too pretty. He couldn’t get enough for the large body bending to his will; the faithful look in his eyes as they locked gazes.

In the end, though, it only needed Jesse suddenly dipping forward and softly dragging his tongue along Hanzo’s cheek for him to crumble and give his pet a hand; tweaking and pulling at his nipples, thigh lifting up into his desperate downward grind to help him drag his cock along his skin, wide hips moving, jerking, fucking against him while Hanzo made his tits into two points of delicious, agonizing pain.

He was howling by the end of it, wide-eyed and drenched in sweat, dark hair matting and sticking along his body as he looked almost fearful for a second; like he was scared that that terrible plateau of lust wouldn’t be broken this way - that he needed more than fingers pinching his tits and a thigh and belly to rut against.

When he came, it was almost silent; he hiccupped out a whine, body going rigid, joints locking against the waves crashing through him and tongue lolling with saliva dripping down the point of it. They looked down their bellies, watching McCree’s cock flex and jerk, coming so hard a few ropes of cum splashed against their heaving, sweaty bellies before it started tapering off and merely dribbled messy and copious down his shaft to soak into the hair at the base of his cock.

“My good boy,” Hanzo murmured - and huffed as Jesse slumped forward, unabashed in making him carry the substantial weight of his bulk.

“My lazy boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	99. Ana/Reinhardt Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you ever write that Reinhardt lactation kink thing?

It has been a while since Ana last saw him make that particular dance: Reinhardt squirming on his seat, the wrinkles around his eyes a little deeper than usual, huge hands curled into fists in his lap as he held his elbows awkwardly away - making sure not to put pressure on the sides of his chest.

“You are a ridiculous boy,” she told him when she had him in her room, her voice low and smokey, one good eye peering up into his flushed face as she started unbuttoning his shirt. Where it usually fit perfectly fine, it now seemed to strain around the wide circumference of his chest.

“Been so long since I had the pleasure…” She pushed the shirt apart, smirking quietly, serenely as she carded fingertips through the thick, springy chest hair greeting her. 

“Such pretty tits you have… I didn’t know you were still giving milk, my pretty boy. Who would have known?” Reinhardt made a soft sound; his pecs looked even more obscene than usual; swollen as they were with milk, pink nipples puffy and red as if inflamed.

“No, don’t fuss,” she chided softly when he started squirming again, groaning low and rattling when her small hand cupped the lower curve of one hairy pec, squeezing it until sharp, forceful bursts of milk shot through the tiny openings in the swollen nipple - some clinging in droplets to the thick chest hair; others hitting the side of Ana’s face.

She chuckled, wiping some away with the tip of her finger and suckling it off as she looked up into his flushed face, the pupil of his good eye huge.

“Poor boy,” she crooned and took his large hand to lead him over towards the bed. “Sit. Mommy is hungry, baby. Just let me take good care of your lovely tits. Been so long since I could savor them last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	100. McCree/Reaper Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruh... Young McCree with a praise kink, bending over backwards and submissive AF for Gabe in the bedroom just to get any kind of encouragement or compliment. Getting hella turned on when Gabe fucks his throat or spanks him when fucking him. Fuckkn... This shitty kid in a collar, drooling and panting when he's called a good boy  
> Alternatively: Gabe wants to show his protege off to Jack, prove that this kid was a good investment, so he has the commander come down to watch he and Jesse spar. Except Jesse is the kind of guy who gets adrenalin boners, and Gabe is a petty bitch who’s been getting the cold shoulder from too-good-for-this-shit Morrison. Sparring turns into suggestive wrestling, and then into fucking Jesse through the floor. Jack can’t help but watch, grumpy but turned the fuck on.

Gabriel throws an arm around the kid’s shoulder as they walk down the hallway. He hears his surprised little intake of air and magnanimously ignores it. Instead, he tucks him in close to his chest, arm curling tight around his neck to tilt his head closer. Gabriel angles towards him - a practiced move to let the hood shield most of his face.

“Listen to me, pretty boy,” he growls low. Close like this, he feels like he can almost smell the immediate rush of hormones the kid produces. He feels McCree swivel subtly, tucking himself more firmly beneath his commanding officer’s arm, chin angling towards his chest as he glances at him; everything about him puppy eager.

“You improved a lot these past weeks. Stopped being a little punk shithead.” He jostled him a little, eyes flicking between his face - slowly filling with hectic red dots - and the hallway they were marching down. “I told Morrison to get his ass down and watch you work. So…”

He halts him just before the locker rooms and leans in a little closer still, voice dropping, staring into the kid’s eyes to get his point across.

“You gonna be on your best behavior. Show him what you’re made of. And maybe you’ll get a little treat afterwards. Got it?”

McCree’s mouth opens in a vacant expression of dreamy surprise, his eyes fixed - not on Gabriel’s gaze, but lower, staring at the curve of his lips. 

Kid knew how good recruits got rewarded.

“Yes, Sir,” he breathes and Reyes puts one large hand into the back of his neck, squeezes it and shakes him once, firmly.

“Good boy.”

He should’ve known that he’d made a tactical error.

.o.

McCree had a boner large enough to tent the front of the black training elastics he wore, and Morrison couldn’t stop staring at it. He had noticed - Gabriel had noticed - he was pretty sure everybody had noticed, just not the kid himself.

He looked feverishly eager, a glint in his eyes that seemed almost crazy as he threw himself against Gabriel again and again, his lanky body having no hope to overpower the sturdy sheer muscle mass that was Reyes, but making do with what was at his disposal anyway.

He was resilient to a point of idiocy, and Jack couldn’t help but respect a man that was fighting with such tenacity while sporting a spectacular hard-on. Christ… he could even see a wet spot slowly forming.

“He’s good,” he says, forces it out past the lump in his throat. He has his arms crossed so tightly in front of his chest that he can barely breathe. Gabriel’s facial expression is dark. Sour. He suddenly slams the kid down onto the ground and holds him there with the weight of his body.

“No,” he retorts simply - grunts it, because McCree is trying to stem up, ass lifting involuntarily, and Gabriel bares his teeth, presses down with his own hips, large hands around the kid’s wrists. Jack feels heat wash through him. He feels like he shouldn’t be watching this - tries to catch Gabriel’s eye to say good-bye and flee… but Gabriel isn’t looking over to him. He is staring at the unkempt tangle of the kid’s hair that neither of them had managed to shave into an acceptable buzz cut yet.

“He’s more than good, idiot,” he spits out, and moves - spreads his knees until he has the recruit’s long legs between them and (Jack stares, mouth dry, cock feeling ridiculously swollen in his uniform pants) thrusts forward - an unmistakable grind of his hips, hard enough to rock McCree an inch or two across the mats, accompanied by a harsh grunt from between clenched teeth.

“He’s the goddamn best recruit I got.” McCree makes a strange, high whistling sound and stems up further - gets leverage enough to lift the heavy bulk of Gabriel up. Like this, Jack can see the bulge of his cock more prominently - it is pressing against the thin fabric of the elastic black onesie and bobbing ridiculously beneath his body. The kid is not wearing any underwear, he realizes dumbly just now. “…And a fucking disgrace,” Reyes snarls finally, one thick arm sliding underneath McCree’s throat, forcing his head back, choking him.

Jack is rooted to the spot, helpless to watch. They’re grappling still, but McCree’s movements have become aimless and sluggish. His sweaty face is starting to turn beet red from lack of oxygen.

Gabriel is rocking forward, hips curling into him in a rhythm that couldn’t be misconstrued. He’s rutting against McCree like an animal - fucking him into submission, and McCree… lets him.

He doesn’t even try to grab at the meaty arm choking him; just takes the abuse until it looks like he’s going to pass out and Gabriel makes a throaty, gurgling sound of disgust and lets go of him.

“Best goddamn shot,” he growls and lifts up, braces himself with one hand on the mat as he jerks his hips forward, slams against McCree’s ass. The kid makes a soft sound, tilts his head, tries to lift… His eyes are glassy, eager, mouth swollen and wet with spit. Gabriel doesn’t let him go far - his large hand slamming down on the side of McCree’s face, mashing him into the ground, holding his head down while he bucks and fucks against his raised ass.

They’re making a spectacle and nobody is pulling them apart. Jack surely isn’t fucking stepping into the makeshift ring and dragging Gabriel off of his prey.

“Best goddamn shot I’ve ever seen,” he repeats bitingly, white teeth glinting in his face, upper lip curled back in a silent snarl, “And swaggers in here cock first, the stupid, fucking idiot.”

Gabriel is putting one foot on the mat now, shifting his bracing hand onto McCree’s slim hip to lift his ass into the rocking, punishing thrusts. There’s no pretense anymore as to what Gabriel is doing, and Jack shifts from one foot to the other, uncomfortably turned on, sweat beading on his brow.

.o.

McCree is submissive and puppy eager and that makes it almost worse - brings Gabriel’s blood to a boil, because he could have accepted McCree’s stupid grinning face, as he swaggered in and showed off his dick tenting his body suit, swinging side to side, bobbing because he wasn’t wearing a fucking thing beneath.

But this.

This feverishly eager glint in his eyes, his absolute capitulation before his officer, letting him grunt fuck him into the mats, not even whining to get his cock out or his ass in the open to get properly dicked… 

He’d been fighting like the devil, yes, but only so he could get close - mash his face into Gabriel’s neck, have his head crushed into his sweaty pits; get close and personal with his commanding officer, cock leaking, making a spectacle out of himself in front of fucking Morrison of all people.

“That’s it?” he snarls, dragging his cock through the cleft of McCree’s covered ass “That’s the finest you wanna show the Strike Commander? Your god damned dick dribbling through your shorts?!” 

McCree is fucking whimpering, ass subtly pressing back, trying to feel more of Gabriel’s cock - and it gets his fingertips itching until he relents with a low snarl, grabbing the back of Jesse’s suit and ripping it with ease across the meager swell of the kid’s ass.

Fuck they still needed to get him filled out, but it would do. It would fucking do.

There was commotion around them and he was waiting for somebody to grab him, to pull him off the kid - but nobody was coming. No hands restricted him as he got his own cock out and slapped it meatily against the kid’s exposed crack.

“You a little freak, McCree?” he asks roughly when he leans up and doesn’t hold the kid down any longer, only for McCree to stay put obediently. He’s chewing on his ridiculously long hair and drooling on the mats.

When Gabriel slaps his naked ass experimentally, he makes a ridiculous high-pitched sound; almost whistling through his nose, clenching his ass visibly, then relaxing again.

Gabriel could see people in his peripherals. They were milling but quiet. Watching.

Morrison was a bright blue point in their midst - he’d almost forgotten he was there watching. It fans his ire on anew.

“You like my best recruit, Morrison?” 

He feels like he might be going insane. He’d told McCree more than once that he’d be the one sending him around the bend but he never thought it would be like this: rubbing his cock first down then up between the cheeks of Jesse’s ass, rolling his foreskin down in the process until the air of the gym hits the exposed glans - all because McCree was… McCree.

They’re all just watching. Reyes can smell their excitement, the earthy notes of their worked-up bodies. Most of all he smells McCree. Unwashed and sweating, hormones wafting off of him like steam, back contorted into an unnatural bend just to get his ass up.

He isn’t even jerking off, the idiot - his hands still obediently next to his head, clawing at the mat, making soft, breathy, girly sounds as he gets to feel his commander’s cock.

He’d send him to the showers like that: a large tear in the back of his suit, ass out, dripping Reyes’ cum in thick, creamy globs, the front of his suit equally messy. 

Jesse would enjoy it, too. The ribbing he’d get. Grin broad and toothy like he was fucking high, and just slowly peel out of his ruined suit.

Reyes really had thought he’d stopped being a fucking punk. Now he knew Jesse McCree would always be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	101. DVa/Soldier76 Orgasm Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D. va, in her endless torment of 76, puts a fleshlight between her legs and lets him fuck it while she gently croons at him, teases him, and otherwise drives him mad. Letting him smell her, cradle her, worship her; but he never gets to really take her, not really. But it's 'just like the real thing, right?'

Her fingers look so small curled around the fleshlight. He forgets how to breathe for a moment, lungs seizing in his chest, kneeling on the floor and staring at the sight of D.Va playing with the toy.

“What is it?” she says faux innocently, voice pitched a little higher than her usual vocal range, eyes studiously large and sweet as she slides her fingers along the barrel of the toy. “Don’t you like it?”

She lifts it towards her lips and gives the plastic a little peck, watching the Soldier watch her, his mouth falling open, eyes tracking every movement. His arms are outside of her line of sight. He’s probably clutching at his cock, as he watches her - squeezing the big dick with both fists; making himself hurt without her having to tell him.

“Well?” she asks a little sharper, leg stretching, pink painted toes nudging ruthlessly at his stubbled chin. “Don’t you like it?”

“I… like it,” he says, voice raspy. There is no other answer he could give - everything else would cause her to deny him the privilege for another god-knew-how-long.

D.Va smiles at him, bright and happy. She opens her legs, lets him see her hairy snatch opening just enough to give him a peek of her velvety insides before she brings the toy down between her legs and rubs it there; hips curving up into it. She moans breathy and totally fake, and he’s so gone for her he hangs onto every note, tendons straining in his neck and veins popping on his forehead.

“Come,” she croons, and he scrambles to get up, large body pushing between her thighs, sweat already beading at his hairline. He’s huffing and she laughs at him. Her giggling increases when she sees how shaky the hand gripping his cock is; how she dragged him to the edges of a seizure just by being a denying little cocktease.

“Oh no, no, no. You dummy,” she says lovingly when he tries, hoping against hope, to dip his cock beneath the toy; let it nudge at her cunt and get at least a little sip of those warm, velvety insides. Instead what he gets are her sharp nails digging into his lower body, forcing a grunt from him.

“Wrong hole, dum-dum.” He simply nods along, tears of frustration beading at the corners of his eyes as he lets her push him back to realign himself - this time with the slick opening of the pink, sparkly toy.

Fucking her like this is a new form of torture. She slings her arms and legs around him and sighs; holds on and coos as he fucks like a man possessed, hips hunching, grunt fucking into the slick opening. She holds it in place for him, at least.

He imagines she wouldn’t sound so sweet and composed if he were to fuck her in earnest. He imagines her howling on his dick, complaining about the burning in her cunt, about how he was ruining that sweet little hole and filling her belly with fire.

He has his face mashed into the crook of her shoulder and feels her card her sharp, cruel little fingers through his white hair as he imagines her groaning like a beast, bearing down on his cock, trying to comprehend the sheer width spreading her open. She’d drool for him; she’d come on his cock, squirt for the first time in her cruel, cock-teasing life, beg for him to stop and come again and again when he wouldn’t… come until she was fucked dumb and silent and sweet, a little kitten, tamed by his dick….

“Just like the real thing, isn’t it?” she croons in his ear, her fingers surprisingly strong as she grips his hair and drags his head back - makes him look into her face. She is composed and smiling, staring at his teary, snotty face and coos at him when she wipes at his cheeks. 

“I’m so nice to you, aren’t I?”

He bites down a sob of frustration, his balls painful - filled to the max, hurting, tender from getting denied again and again. He nods regardless; puppy eager, hips still flexing, humping the fleshlight as if showing her how good he could fuck would make her reconsider torturing him.

D.Va leans up and gives him a little peck - not unlike the one she gave her toy - and leans back down with a little sigh. Her small tits bounce with the movements and he can’t stop staring at her chest.

“Tell you what. If you manage to come within ten seconds after I give you the command, you’ll get to sleep in my bed tonight.”

His chest seizes, cock spurting out such a thick, sudden stream of pre-cum that for a second he fears he came.

“W-With you?” he asks, voice small and shivery. She laughs - not cruel this time, but delighted at how much he’s already learned. She strokes his shoulders and frames his face in her hands, cooing: “Yes. With me, this time.”

God, he loves her so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	102. McCree/Reaper Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is a farm boy who knows all the right techniques to pull all the milk from Gabe's chest and never spills a drop unless he intends to. He's got the right hand techniques, just the right pressure in each pull and is efficient about it. Jesse has no idea. He has never SEEN a cow before or been near a tit to draw milk out of it. He's loud, messy, at least a third ends up on his chin, he hiccups and burps and takes forever unless yelled at and hes sloppier then too. Its cute and Gabe hates it.

Gabriel couldn’t believe how bad someone who dressed as a goddamn cowboy was at nursing. He couldn’t believe the goddamn stupid, milkdrunk expression McCree got within the first couple sloppy pulls, or the way he pawed clumsily at his pecs, trying to massage more liquid out of him and failing.

Nursing McCree was an unending trial of patience, yet he found himself again and again in the inexplicably need to seek him and his ever-moving mouth out.

It had taken the kid three sessions until he finally figured out how to do a proper seal, yet still he preferred to pop off Gabriel’s puffy nipple every now and then just to smack his milk stained lips together with an obnoxious, wet sound, looking so goddamned content with his life, Gabriel wanted to slap him upside the head.

Truth was… Gabriel could have it any way he wanted; he could easily seek out Jack and demand him to take care of the fucking mess, but Jesse had a certain… charm to him.

He simply enjoyed nursing. His goddamned face lit up every time he got caught at the scruff like an errant puppy and pulled into Gabriel’s office. He got overeager hard ons more often than not, positively panting until he was allowed to come close and latch on.

There was a simple, eager happiness about him that was impossible to ignore.

He also was a fucking punk kid that liked to play around, lapping uselessly at Gabriel’s puffy tits while lounging in his lap like an oriental king - but he took the resulting abuse in stride; laughing and rubbing the back of his head before latching on properly again.

Nursing Jesse felt stupidly right. He felt himself more and more loathe to seek out Jack - preferred the intimacy of his Blackwatch subordinate. It felt like it stayed in the family that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	103. McCree/Hanzo Impotence

“God… damn…” Jesse grit his teeth through Hanzo’s orgasm, bushy eyebrows drawn together, lips pulled back in a silent, unconscious snarl.

He could barely breathe through the muscles squeezing down on him, belly feeling like it was filled with molten rock as his hips hunched, shimmied, fucked through Hanzo howling into the bedding with silky little rocking motions.

It only seemed to prolong the sensation for the other man: he could hear his breath hitch, see the way his head shook in mute denial of the new wave of intense feeling crashing through him and making him unable to draw another breath.

Jesse reacted even before Hanzo could move and dislodge himself from the agonizing pleasure the small nudges were renewing, leaning forward and placing a large hand on the side of Hanzo’s head, pressing him unceremoniously back down.

Hanzo was still as Jesse lifted first one leg onto the edge of the mattress, then the other, careful, slow, trying not to topple over as he literally mounted the other man, teeth gnashed together so hard his head hurt.

He hadn’t fully settled yet when Hanzo took in a sharp, little breath - wet and desperate sounding as his lungs’ clench seemed to finally let go. Jesse couldn’t see his eyes over the tangle of his thick, greying hair, only the soft, wet gape of his open mouth, strands of hair sticking to his lips.

“Ready for one more?”

Jesse grins. He feels feral. He thinks he might look a little crazed - hair mussed, eyes shiny, cock throbbing as he let himself calm down and claw his way back from the precipice of his own orgasm.

Not yet… Not quite yet.

Hanzo didn’t react for the longest time; just breathed through the last shudders of his orgasm, fingers relaxing from their desperate clutch of the sheets - and yet, Jesse knew he wasn’t hard; cock hanging soft and cute between his strong thighs, the wet head hidden in his foreskin.

Once upon a time it had concerned Jesse; even scratched at his masculinity. By now he found it unbearably hot.

“One last time, babydoll. Fuck. Gonna dick you so good, Hanzo. That good? That alright with you?”

His hips were moving again in slow, thrusting circles, playing with a couple inches just to make Hanzo’s rim burn around the girth of his dick. He braced one hand on Hanzo’s shoulder to keep balance, the other still pushing his head down. He could feel him mutely nod underneath his fingers.

He grinned sharper, wider, hips lifting farther as he started gaining momentum. His hamstrings protested early on, making themselves known with burning pain that this was not a good position, but the fact that Hanzo started grunting again, low and urgent, was enough to keep him where he was.

He wanted to flip him over; spread Hanzo’s short legs and watch the ridiculous bounce of his limp cock, as he deep dicked him. He was loathe to move, though; now that he had him where he wanted him, pinned and with his ass in the air, giving Jesse free reign to go to town on him.

“Three times. Got you three times, right? Right, babydoll? C’mon. C’mon one last time. Come on my cock like a good whore. Love my dick so much, don’tcha? Goddamn slut for big American cock.”

He was babbling, slurring words, head feeling hot and full, temples throbbing in time with his dick as he lost control and fucked into Hanzo sharp and quick, little jackrabbit thrusts that barely moved his cock and seemingly simply pushed deeper, deeper, deeper still until Hanzo’s back arched and his shoulders rolled, helpless low sounds of desperation spilling from his throat.

“Deep enough for ya?”

Jesse heard him come before he felt it - a choked groaning sound from between Hanzo’s clenched teeth, muscles clenching down suddenly; enough to make Jesse hiss, eyes tightening with pain, balls jumping once, practically stuttering, hesitating, before Hanzo’s muscles loosened slightly and everything seemed to give all at once.

Jesse bit his tongue as he came, hips hot and rigid, not moving an inch as he filled Hanzo up and heard him whine through the sensation of it all.

Fuck, but how much he wanted to have him on his back right now so he could watch his cock; see him drool out cum while still limp, howling when Jesse took him in hand and helped him massage it out of the oversensitive head - everything adding to him clenching and unclenching on Jesse’s cock, muscles no longer his own.

As it was, he could only ride it out; holding him down, trying to keep his cock in that hot, silky space while Hanzo squirmed beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	104. The Dark Tower AU

The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

He never left much in the way of tracks; no foot prints, no scraps of food, not even little piles of dirt where he tried to bury his excrement. He left nothing behind that could show even a little dredge of his humanity - not like Jesse who was leaving empty water sleeves behind like snake skins.

He had long soaked through his gear, the sun an unrelenting force beating down on him; yet he still trudged on undeterred, still following the shadow of his teacher.

He never did seem to get closer. Reyes was moving on like a machine, seemingly never stopping, yet leaving small piles of sick, slow burning grass behind for Jesse to rest at during the night.

He wants me to follow him, he thinks in these moments, sitting down heavily. The grass was the only thing growing in the blight, giving off a sulfuric glow that hurt the eyes if looked at it directly.

Jesse pulled out one of his last cigars and put it in the corner of his mouth - not lighting it, just lightly chewing on the end, staring moodily ahead, trying to see the black dot that wafted in and out of sight sometimes.

He was crazy. He knew he was: following a figment of his imagination just because he couldn’t stomach the thought of Gabriel Reyes dying, crushed beneath so much rubble. It seemed like Reyes was somehow… better than that. Like he would simply walk anything short of an atomic explosion off.

In many ways, he still was the brat Blackwatch had picked up and honed into a weapon; the brat that had idolized his commander above anything and anyone else.

Maybe that was the reason he had gone off after seeing it. Lured back to the organization he’d left shamefully behind by the rumors of Morrison and Reyes having died - and seeing one of the windows along the ground burst open, letting out a thick, inky mass of hate…

McCree shifts, hand falling to his side, fingers curling around the thick, well worn handle of Peacekeeper. Here in the desert where the weapon had no targets to aim at, it had become more of a comfort; a steady, heavy weight at his hip.

No, the man in black was no figment of his imagination. He had seen the black cloud. He had heard Angela’s faint, alarmed scream of “Gabriel!” - and he did sit night after night at the little piles of grass the creature left behind for him.

He would track him down sooner or later; and he would… he would…

…he didn’t know what he would do. He was a sick puppy trailing after his master, and he had the numb feeling Reyes knew it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	105. Genji/Reinhardt Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, ever since someone brought up Dragonhardt all I can think about is Genji's sweet robo puss squirting multiple times from Reinhardt's fingers alone /sweats

Reinhardt felt fingers inch across his thigh and chanced a short glance over to his side. Genji was curled up on the seat, face plate lying discarded in the foot space.

Reinhardt chuckled and eased off the accelerator.

“I thought you wanted to be my bodyguard today, Spätzchen.”

Genji pushed closer with feet against the door, shoving his head unabashedly beneath Reinhardt’s arm until he had to shift to accommodate - which he did without complaint. He couldn’t deny Genji anything.

“The windows are bullet proof, and I’m bored.”

“You want a little treat, hm?”

“Not little…”

Reinhardt laughed out loud at that, fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel as he felt Genji work to carefully open up his fine dress pants. 

“And here I thought you wanted to be reputable tonight… Have you even earned yourself a treat yet?”

He leaned back in the expensive leather seat, knees spreading to give Genji better access. His cock was still soft but Genji’s fingers always felt good around it, no matter what. He loved the cool grip of his silicon fingers and the feel of his breath as a stark contrast: warm and wet, fanning in excited, little pants across his skin.

Reinhardt hummed and moved, hand first falling down to the gear shift, then sliding over to pet through the silky, short hair his boy had managed to grow.

Genji wasn’t answering his teasing - he was more interested in suckling the tip into his mouth, tongue out and dipping into the folds of his foreskin. He was rewarded with a low groan when he flicked it against the sensitive head hidden there.

“Don’t get my pants dirty, Spätzchen… You need to be a good boy tonight.” His fingers slide down, wiping at the spit drooling from Genji’s eager mouth, his eyes already glassy looking when Reinhardt chances a small glance down into his lap; watching the wide spread of Genji’s jaw as his cock starts filling; fattening up in the warm, wet space of the cyborg’s mouth.

When Genji pops off, it’s accompanied with a lewd, slurping pop. His hand keeps moving - slowly jerking the older man, keeping his cock upright so he could still rub his cheek against it and let Reinhardt feel the dual textures of scarred cheek going over to synthetic jaw.

“Yes, Daddy.” He cooed it, voice studiously sweet, golden eyes glimmering with a green hint as Reinhardt grunted in surprise, belly clenching. Genji didn’t always pull out that particular card.

They halted at a stop light and Reinhardt’s big hand shifted immediately - from the back of Genji’s neck down the slope of his back towards the generous curve of his ass.

It was easy to push the fabric of his codpiece to the side. Genji shifted up on his knees eagerly, ass pushing into the touch of thick fingers sliding through his mesh cunt.

“Naughty…” Reinhardt murmurs, fingers dipping in deeper, spreading the silky material and rubbing up against the little nodes hidden inside. “You rather want to be Daddy’s little slut instead of my bodyguard, hm?”

Genji hums, peppering kisses along the shaft, hips swaying and moving as he tries to fuck himself onto the fat fingers, no longer as interested in the big cock he was hugging to his face as he was wanting to get fingered to orgasm.

He cried out in dismay when Reinhardt pulled away, giving him a parting slap before focusing back on driving.

“Be a good boy and maybe I’ll squirrel you off into the bathroom later…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	106. Reaper/Soldier76 Ass Worship

Jack could barely hear him over the jeering of the crowd.

“You got enough?” He was laughing as well, the tremors of his chest jostling Jack’s head where it was clamped beneath Reyes’ arm. He felt light headed from lack of oxygen. His eyeballs were throbbing, chest seizing, arms hugged around Reyes’ sturdy waist - not trying to dislodge him, just holding on for dear life as his head got threatened to get popped like a grape.

The cheering from the crowd bled into the background. Reyes loosened his hold a little. He said something but Jack couldn’t make it out for the life of him, focused instead on pulling air into his lungs, just breathing in, slowly becoming aware of the most useless things - how warm his toes felt, how much his shirt itched on his back… how his neck was nestled into Reyes armpit, everything humid and thick with the smell of workout sweat.

Someone called something and the crowd jeered again.

“Oh you’re a nasty boy, Morrison.”

Jack groaned mindlessly, head turning, nose dragging along the edge of Reyes’ pit, lips instinctively parting pressing suckling kisses into the salty skin, the corner of his mouth tickled by the wet hair. Reyes shifted, thick hip bumping against Jack, jostling him out of his delirious head enough to make him aware of his cock: hard and tenting his training sweats for the whole room to see.

.o.

Some left… a lot were still there to watch Morrison dig his face into the humid stench of Reyes’ sweaty ass. It was shocking to see the blond hair beneath those massive thighs and even more so to see him strain up and push deeper into the man kneeling above him, little sounds of sucking and licking accompanied by low, nearly pained sounding grunts.

“Is he actually digging in there, Reyes?”

Gabriel barked out a laugh. He got jostled by one particularly eager thrust upwards and reached down to get a fist full of Morrison’s hair, thighs tensing as he rode it out and ground down almost viciously - sitting his fat ass down with his substantial weight and suffocating the golden boy in the warm mess behind his heavy balls.

“He’s fuckin’ loving eatin’ my sweaty ass,” was Reyes’ only comment. His belly was filled with fire, cock drooling along Morrison’s forehead. He could feel his little huffs of breath against tender skin; how he nudged the tip of his nose into that dark, hot space, fucking sniffing at him before he snaked his tongue out and dragged it sloppily wherever he could reach.

He wished they were on their own and in private; he wished he could ask Morrison all the questions that were thrumming through his mind as he rode his partner’s face and smeared his heavy sack across the bridge of his perfect farm boy nose.

You like being nasty, Morrison?

You get off on mashing your face into my sweaty pits?

Wanna have me step on your dick, too?

…Wanna make out some before I sit my fat ass down on your face and make you beg for breath?

Fuck.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	107. Mondatta/Reinhardt Sexbot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondatta not wanting to say anything out loud. Reinhardt wanting him to scream until his voice box overloads due to stress. One massive paw keeping both of those slim wrists away from unplugging anything. The other is just rubbing inside of Mondatta's valve, exploring all of those little nodes that make the frame shudder with pleasure. Reinhardt trying to coax him into shouting out loud. Mondatta refuses until he can't take it anymore.

“You are so very quiet… am I hurting you?”

Reinhardt shuffles his knees farther apart, giving himself a better leverage to nudge his hips forward. The Omnic’s thin legs are spread wide to accommodate the girth of his hips, that sweet synthetic cunt hugging his cock tight and surprisingly warm - inner processors whirring audibly to ensure his pleasure.

He could hear the soft clicking of mechanics inside the Omnic, as well as the sensual slick sounds of his fucking; cock pressing into the silky valve over and over again, hips feeling loose with boyish enthusiasm as he could press in as far as he wanted; nothing but accommodating acceptance greeting him.

The diamond grid of teal lights on the Omnic’s crown brightened for a moment before dimming again. He shakes his head slowly, the dim light of the room glinting off that golden jaw.

He was a breathtaking piece, to be sure; gleaming chrome and matte white with golden accents. Reinhardt still couldn’t believe a thing as pretty as him was in a place like this. He would’ve sworn his meager soldier pay wouldn’t be able to afford him.

Reinhardt rumbles softly, head dipping low, breathing warm against the golden jaw which immediately fogs up. His hips swivel, one hand dipping down between them, thick fingers finding that sweet little cunt - and the intriguing node sitting on top of the gold mesh folds.

“Am I not pleasing you?” he purrs, hips almost coming to a standstill as he rounds the little sensor again and again, letting it take in the warmth of his thumb.

The Omnic’s - Mondatta, the nameplate on the door had read - lights flash again. His head tilts back, all the lovely pistons in his neck exposing to the crusader. They looked shockingly delicate, even though the Omnic had to be almost sturdier than he.

Mondatta shifted beneath him, fans whirring audibly to life the longer Reinhardt played with his pretty cunt. He pulled slowly out, staring down between their bodies and watching the length of his cock glisten with the artificial slick. It bounced up against his belly, pulsing out a string of pre-cum even as his hand slid farther down, fingers curiously touching where he had nestled himself just seconds prior.

Everything was already closing up again smoothly; silicon closing in suckling and perfect around his probing, thick fingers; hugging them just as tight and warm as they had the substantial girth of his dick.

“Mein Gott, but you’re a pretty thing. You can take cock for days and would still be tight as a virgin, can’t you? Taking my dick so well… never had someone that just swallowed me up like you did. Cushioning me with that gorgeous little cunt like it was a prize…”

Reinhardt pushed farther in, callused fingertips feeling little nodes lining the sides of Mondatta’s valve. He pressed on them softly, experimentally, and paused when the Omnic went rigid, teal lights flashing white hot, then dimming again - and still he was so silent. No word coming from him. He would’ve thought his voicebox broken if it hadn’t been for the little greeting he had gotten when entering the tacky room.

“Are you afraid?” he asks gently, fingers still dipping in deep, sliding out and taking the warm slick to smear it messy and gentle across the fat little node on top of the golden mesh lips.

“I’m not here to hurt you, pretty thing. You don’t need to be afraid of me…”

It was then that the most curious thing happened: the Omnic squirming and shifting, arm reaching for the back of his neck, fumbling with something before…

“I…am not… afraid.”

His voice was staticky and warbling, not at all the modulated notes from their introduction, a sort of breathlesness being produced alongside it.

Reinhardt’s mouth went dry even as his cock surged, drooling out another thick string of pre-cum, balls feeling hot and oversensitive all of a sudden.

“Oh you naughty… have you unplugged your voice box?” he cooed, fingers delving in deep and spreading, trying to push against as many nodes as possible while his thumb rudely tapped against the sensor mimicking Mondatta’s clit.

The Omnic made a most curious sound at that; not quite howling but whistling, high and fraying at the edges, teal dots lighting up in quick succession as he scrabbled and squirmed, hips lifting into the rude fingering even as he tried - and failed - to reach for the back of his neck again.

Reinhardt easily caught the thin wrists in one broad hand, pinning them above the Omnic’s head.

“Nein, nein, nein,” he purred, back prickling, chest swelling with pride. “I want you to be nice and loud for me. Such a gorgeous voice… Everybody should know how well I’m servicing you.”

The Omnic’s head jerked to the side, tilting abruptly and looking almost questioning like a dog.

“Service… me?” his voice broke halfway through, hips lifting, steam hissing from somewhere, heating up the room and plunging them in warm vapor for the time being. 

Reinhardt grinned broad and happy at him, forgetting his injured eye from last night’s fight for one glorious moment to let himself get distracted by this pretty Omnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	108. Reinhardt/Mondatta Sexbot 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so speaking of sexbot mondatta, and since you've made me thirsty for reindatta, what if the two of them met before everything?? When mondatta was a sexbot and rein was just a plain ol german soldier. they fucked one night, and were both so mesmerized by the other's body that they started seeking each other out for kinky sex, feat size queen mondatta. and now, after all this time, mondatta meets rein again, still so big and so gentle and even if now he's a monk mondatta feels old urges pressing.

The monastery was impressive in and off itself, though all it’s simple grandeur seemed to pale compared to its unique master.

Reinhardt let the curtain fall close behind him, straightening from the awkward crouch the doorways were forcing him into. He smiled, a little uncertain, head tilting towards the Omnic standing in front of the simple desk occupying the middle of the room, hands folded in front of his lap.

“No doors, huh?”

“We have nothing to hide from each other. We are brothers and sisters in the Iris.”

Reinhardt watches him, good eye roving across the faceplate, the diamond grid of teal lights - the accents of pretty gold and tasteful matte white against shining chrome.

He remembers the night well - the night after he lost usefulness of his left eye; when he went out into the seedy underbelly of a city far away from home.

He can’t help blundering ahead, body filled with nervous energy: “You’re still just as pretty as…”

Mondatta doesn’t react for a long time. He is standing still as a statue, back straight, grey robes tastefully draped across the tall, slender body. Reinhardt ducks his head, uncharacteristically shy.

“You don’t remember me. It’s been a long while - and humans do age, unfortunately.”

“I remember you. You had never given me your name, but… I remember you.”

Reinhardt jerks, glancing up with his good eye. Mondatta has stepped closer, body still rigid. Contained. As pretty and unreachable as he looked on TV and the posters and magazines.

Reinhardt’s mouth goes dry thinking of their encounter many years ago. He can still hear Mondatta’s voice fraying at the edges, cracking and warbling all over the place from getting stuffed with cock.

“You are still very… impressive. I had thought my sensors might have played a trick on me, but…”

Mondatta trails off, one hand coming up in an involuntary, small gesture. His fingers halt in the air, before slowly curling into his palm. He had no facial expression and still Reinhardt felt like he was embarrassed.

The leader of the Shambali - the famous Mondatta… embarrassed.

Reinhardt steps closer. He catches the undecided hand before it can be pulled back towards the body once more, cradling it in huge palms. He leans down.

“Nothing to hide from your brothers and sisters, yes?”

Mondatta’s head tilts regally, the light glinting off his golden jaw. He sniffs haughtily - an entirely artificially produced sound, but doesn’t pull his hand away.

“There is nothing to hide.”

Reinhardt dips his voice into a low rumble, fingers slowly dragging across Mondatta’s palm, circling the sensor he finds there.

“So they all know that you’ve got the prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen?”

Mondatta jerks, lax fingers abruptly curling in and shielding his palm from more advances. He tilts his body away, looking through a small, open window. 

Doesn’t pull his hand out of his grip.

Reinhardt has no idea what the Omnic might be thinking but barrels on either way, all false lion bravado: “I’m not here to humiliate you.” He can see the teal lights flash hot. Once. Interesting. “I suppose I just needed you to know… How much I admire you.”

Mondatta turns his head back towards him.

“Admire, yes?” he says slowly, and there definitely is a hint of amusement in that cool, modulated voice this time. Reinhardt feels like preening and has to stop himself running a hand obsessively through his mane of hair.

“I suppose…” Mondatta mimics, hand moving, curling around Reinhardt’s thick wrist as he steps closer - close enough for Reinhardt to hear the soft workings of his mechanical body. “… I would be lying if I were to imply I hadn’t thought about your… great… endeavors once in a while. Your exploits are well known, even in Nepal, after all.”

Reinhardt can’t help but guffaw.

.o.

“Let them hear. Let them hear how happy you are with me. Mein Gott you’re still so perfect.”

He’s fucking in sharp little snaps of his hips, driving in deep, making Mondatta take all of him into that gorgeous golden cunt. He has one large hand curled around the back of the Omnic’s neck, shielding the delicate wires from his madly fumbling fingers.

Mondatta whistles softly and arches beneath him, hands trying to find purchase on Reinhardt’s scarred back. He can feel the ergonomic silicone tips try and fail to scratch him up - and wasn’t that a compliment in and off itself?

His mouth is greedy, dragging wet, sucking kisses along the pristine length of Mondatta’s golden jaw as he pushes in deep, cock spreading the silky walls of his cunt apart and nudging rudely against those hidden, unused sensors. 

He can hear Mondatta’s processors trying to keep up with the new input; scrambling to pull up protocols long since locked away beneath fail safe programs.

“Let them hear,” he rumbles, hips twinging with the enthusiastic action but not enough to stop him from pushing deep, grinding his cock in just to feel the cool, soft texture of the gold mesh lips against his pubic bone - and hear Mondatta cry out for the first time, voicebox scrambling to keep up.

“You… you are… you are incorrigible.” Mondatta is practically whining - that ever composed, cool voice trembling, cutting out half way through. His lights are pulsing, a fast, insistent staccato and Reinhardt feels a stupid surge of affection at the sight.

It was hardly an ideal place; lying on the floor on a hasty makeshift bed made from Mondatta’s robes and Reinhardt’s coat, but it would have to do. He wouldn’t be able to drag himself away from that gorgeous golden cunt even under threat. He wouldn’t been able to stop fucking even if the whole Shambali congregation had migrated towards this little, remote room in the monastery to watch their spiritual leader get fucked like a harlot, wrecked on German cock until he had to forcibly reboot.

“Let. Them. Hear,” Reinhardt growls, laughter rumbling somewhere behind the words, every syllable accompanied by a harsh thrust, cock dipping in deep, spreading Mondatta far and indecently wide on the girth.

He could hear the scrape of one metal heel on the ground - the other was slung around Reinhardt’s hips, holding on as Mondatta curled around him and trembled, pistons moving, vents puffing out steam, inner mechanics working to massage along Reinhardt’s cock…

“Mister… W-W-Wilhelm,” Mondatta whines - honest to god whines right into his ear, soft and breathy and just like the pleasurebot he’s once been: “Please!”

Reinhardt thinks he might die of a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	109. Reaper/Soldier76 Dirty Talk

Reaper’s talons are fisted tightly in the short, white hair, keeping the soldier on a tight leash.

“Well? Get to it! Do you want to suck my cock or not? I have other options, I’m not dependent on a used up slut like you.”

He can hear Jack wheeze behind the mask, a slight static to the sound as the electronic within the visor seems to work in overdrive to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him - why his vitals were going all over the place.

Nothing was wrong with the soldier, of course. Nothing except that he was a goddamned cockwhore afraid to get dick taken away from him.

Jack strains against the hold, gloved fingers clamping around his knees because Reaper told him he had to fucking listen to his commands like they were gospel and he’s afraid he might accidentally reach for him anyway.

Gabriel watches his struggle impassively. He is standing like a granite statue, cool and impersonal - if not for the half-hard cock hanging out of his pants. The one Jack was going crazy for.

It was fun watching him struggle against the sharp talons, nearly ripping clumps of hair out in his mindless eagerness and fear that Reaper might make it true - might pack up and leave him kneeling alone in the warehouse they sought out this time.

He is grunting softly, the sound climbing in pitch and desperation the longer he gets held from his prize just a hand width apart - so close that if he were just able to use his hands, he could…

“Fuck you’re pathetic. You want that cock, don’t you? Then fucking get it! Can’t manage that when you have to work for it, hm? The poor guys you usually mug for their dicks probably have no idea what’s even happening. Too goddamn drunk.”

He listens to Jack’s groan - low and gurgling and wet sounding - and feels the weight on his arm increase when he starts to sag a little. He’s stopping to strain forward because he wants to lean back and listen to Gabriel spew abuse at him and he can’t have that, now, can he?

Gabriel makes a soft sound of disgust in the back of his throat and yanks the soldier’s head closer.

“There. I’m even doing the fucking work for you. Now suck my cock.”

He reaches down, curling a fist around the base of his dick and smears,the tip across Jack’s jaw guard. He smirks dark and satisfied behind his mask when the old soldier turns his face into it.

“Well? What now? Get my cock wet, whore. You know how to do that at least, don’t you? Your usual clientele has to be more than happy with just a tongue out drooling over their dicks.”

He can almost picture what was happening behind the mask: Jack’s mouth open and wet, tongue lapping at the inside of what was, if it came down to it, a muzzle.

Reaper wonders what the sensors are able to pick up; whether they let Jack smell his dick, so close yet so far - the sweat and musk overwhelming on his senses. He certainly acts like it. He’s whining like a bitch in heat, head coming forwards, nuzzling desperate and clumsy at the cock held out for him while Gabriel taunts: “Come get it, you lazy slut. I did all the work for you - just open your goddamn mouth and take my cock.”

There’s thin streams of blood trickling down Jack’s forehead from little nicks of Gabriel’s claws as he got to careless. The soldier either doesn’t seem to realize - or, indeed, care.

“You’re a disgrace,” Reaper whispers, voice a low, sibilant hiss as he finally has pity and wrenches the mask and visor from Jack’s face with a harsh hand. There’s a string of saliva connecting the wet bottom lip to the tight protecting mesh; his pupils are blown wide even through the new light filtering in. Everything looks messy and slick and his gaze doesn’t leave Gabriel’s goddamn dick. “You always were,” he continues, breathless, staring at the way Jack tries to fucking choke himself on his cock in his eagerness to suck it down his throat, wet gagging accompanying little, muffled groans of happiness.

He’s never seen Morrison more happy, more tranquil, than when he was warming a dick with his body.

“Good thing nobody outside the program knew what a disgusting slut you really were. Think they wouldn’t have let their precious children play with your toys if they’d known the real thing was getting used as a pissoir by his higher ranking officers and thank them for the privilege.

“I still remember getting ordered to seek you out in whatever corner of the complex they dragged you off to to play with and haul your ass into the showers because you were too goddamn drunk on getting dicked to do it yourself.”

He is cupping Jack’s jaw, almost lovingly tender, staring down at him as he gurgles around his cock, gets everything good and wet as he tries to bury his nose in Gabriel’s pubes. Everything was warm and tight and silky, Jack still knowing how Reaper liked it - even after all these years.

“Show me,” he rasps - and when nothing happens, the old soldier too enamored with sucking cock to listen to his demand, he slams the ball of his hand against his forehead none too gently, pushing him away.

Jack looks dizzy, mouth hanging open, a mix of saliva and salty pre-cum dribbling down his stubbled chin. His eyes become wet. He looks like he’s about to fucking bawl because Reaper denied him his dick.

“Show me,” he says again. He doesn’t need to explain; Jack knows exactly what he wants.

His cheeks turn ruddy red and he squirms on the spot; actually looking loathe to debase himself further, but a little glance at Reaper’s cock, wet and thick, jutting obscenely from the opening of his pants, has him turn around with a dry sob lodged somewhere in his throat.

The panties are pretty and electric blue. They fit his eyes.

Gabriel barks a laugh and places the sole of his boot against Jack’s upraised ass just because he can - nudges hard so the soldier’s cheek rubs through the dirt on the ground where he put it.

“You wanted to be pretty, eh? Did you order them online? One hand on your dick, jerking it while your team mates were going about their daily lives outside your door? Or did you go to a mall. Oh I bet you did. You wanted to see them up close and personal, didn’t you? Wanted to make sure they’re the exact right color so you can feel fucking pretty while you’re wearing them.”

He nudges again with his boot, none too gently. Jack is quiet, his eyes clenched shut, the ruddy flush on his cheeks deepening. Gabriel slowly squats down, sharp talons hooking into the back of the panties. He’s toying with the frilly lace.

“Did you enjoy it walking through a little dessous shop? You got off on the assistants watching you. Knowing exactly your type; that you’re not there to buy something for your wife but for yourself. People can read it in your face, you know. You’re an open book for those who know where to look, Morrison. They only need to take a glance at you and know what a fucking slut you are. Depraved old pervert looking to jerk off into pretty lingerie.”

The soldier is squirming. Gasping. His arms come up and he hides his face in the crook of one of them, shielding his head as if blows were raining in. Gabriel starts tugging his panties down slowly, he feels stupidly out of breath and tries to not let it on.

“Did you have your hands shoved in your pockets? Fondled your dick while you searched for the exact right pair? I bet you did. You were thinking about wearing them later; sitting in the communal room in some ratty undershirt and sweatpants while wearing your cute panties, nobody the wiser. Fuck.”

Jack has made a soft sound - high and trembling and pathetic - and suddenly Gabriel needed more. Needed to get his cock in, even if it were just…

“Show me how much you want my dick, Morrison. C’mon you filthy one-dollar-whore.”

He’s slapping one cheek harshly, leaving four thin, short scratches along the skin, bleeding sluggishly.

Jack moves like he’s in trance; fumbling for his own ass cheeks to pull them apart and show his hole off to the enemy. That tantalizing dark space, glistening wet and welcoming. Gabriel bites the tip of his tongue until he can taste blood so he wouldn’t groan at the sight like a fucking horny teen.

He wonders how Morrison still manages to look so enticing. Even knowing he’d been used like a communal toy, he couldn’t help but nudge the head of his dick in between the spread of his cheeks, while murmuring a low, indistinct mantra of: “Yeah. That’s it. Show me your filthy cunt.”

Jack is carefully still, seemingly not even breathing anymore. He wants Reaper’s cock so bad, he seems frozen to the place, stunned by his own need.

Gabriel grits his teeth, watching himself push in; spreading the buttery soft clench of Jack’s muscles around his tip, farther and farther until he’s spread just on the very edge of the ridge. A high, trembling sound is shivering out of the soldier’s throat. His muscles are working, feeling like a suckling, eager mouth, and Gabriel feels tears burning in his eyes, it feels so good.

He blinks once, twice, exhales sharply between clenched teeth, and finally gets himself back under control.

“There. Happy?”

Jack sobs, gloved fingers digging deeper into his cheeks, trying to spread farther.

“Deeper. Please.”

It’s the first thing he’s said, voice ruined. It’s so dark and gravelly, Reaper can barely make out the words.

“What’s that?”

“Deeper. Please. Oh god, I need…”

“I know what you need. I’m not giving it to you.”

Jack makes a noise that sounds so scandalized, it’s hilarious. Reaper grins behind his mask - more a baring of teeth - and nudges back and forth minimally; a supreme control over his hips and his own desire as he moves his dick; rocks just the tip through the warm, clutching entrance, fucking Jack on it.

“Don’t think you deserve more.”

The soldier’s shoulders are trembling, jerking, pulling up to his ears. He’s fucking crying, teeth dug into his bottom lip as he mindlessly rubs his face against the dirty floor of the warehouse. He’s going insane getting his ass spread on nothing but the tip of Gabriel’s cock, and he doesn’t dare to move back and fuck himself onto the thick length because Reaper hasn’t allowed him to, and he’s been trained well enough.

“Pathetic, filthy whore. I don’t know who’s been in here before me. Some random cocks you picked up in a dirty gas station bathroom, maybe. Got them to fuck you next to a broken toilet because you were in the neighborhood and just smelled your chance to get stuffed. I think you can be lucky I’m even getting this close.”

He’s clenching his teeth until his jaw hurts, fisting his cock and jerking it off in almost angry twists of his wrist, fingers cruel against the ladder piercing.

Jack makes a wet sound in the back of his throat, body jerking, breath coming harsh. He’s coming in his little panties on nothing but an inch of cock and mean words of abuse hissed at him in Gabriel’s low voice.

Reaper snarls and pulls out of the wet grip of his ass, the soft squelching sound enough to trigger his own release, eyebrows drawn together in a grimace of intense concentration and almost anger as he gets the crack of Jack’s ass sticky and warm with his cum.

“Pull your fucking pants back up,” he tells him afterwards, voice gruff, watching as Jack’s fingers tremble visibly even through the thick gloves he’s wearing.

“Wait-” he murmurs when the soldier has fought his way up unto shivering legs, eyes on the the open fly. “Leave that.”

Jack freezes, stares at him with wide eyes, helpless and still horny even though he’d just come - and then his face crumbles and he nods, not able to look into Gabriel’s face anymore because he’s willing to go out like that; fly open, bright blue panties visible, wet and see-through from his cum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	110. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 7

Lúcio’s hand slowly strokes across Gabriel’s skull, feeling the spring of the curls on top. He threads his fingers through and tugs, watching the muscles in Gabriel’s neck loosen, his head tilting back minutely.

“You sure you want this?” he asks somewhat reluctant, right hand idly playing with the electric razor. He likes Gabriel’s curls, they make for a good kind of distraction when he needs to move his fingers, but Gabriel has been a good boy recently and it had been his only request yet.

“Do it,” he grunts, finger tapping against his naked thigh, then adds as an afterthought: “Please.”

Lúcio sighs and strokes across his hair one last time before setting to work.

In and of itself, it was… nice. Gabriel was relaxed, sitting naked in the open kitchen, eyes nearly closed in lazy contentment as the electric razor starts to slowly buzz along the shape of his head. In Lúcio’s opinion he looks like a big cat. He kind of wants to put the razor down and cuddle with Gabriel - crawl onto his sub’s lap and bask in this rare gentle mood of his… and maybe reach down between those thick thighs and take his cock in hand; big and heavy and warm even soft as it is now.

He lets his thoughts drift; thinking about how subtly Gabriel had already changed since their first meeting in the club; how his submission was, if not given easily, then at least not accompanied with the near constant surge of self-loathing that seemed to have clung to him for the longest time.

“Keep still, pet,” he murmurs when Gabriel starts sliding down the chair and smirks when the man immediately sits back up, a little more alert, head tilting to try and peek behind at his Master. Lúcio clicks his tongue and taps his shoulder to get him back on track.

It doesn’t take long at all to finish his task. Gabriel is fidgeting minutely, trying and failing not to be annoyed by the shorn hair littering his naked chest and tickling down his back. He does try to stay still, though - just like asked.

“Good boy,” Lúcio purrs, putting the razor away, eyes fixed on the back of his sub’s head. Without the mop of curls on top, Gabriel looks shockingly vulnerable. Lúcio felt like he could get used to this. Gabriel soft and sweet for him…

His hand rubs across the new buzz cut, humming at the nice feeling of the short hair scraping along his palm. Gabriel turns his head into the touch seemingly mindlessly. When Lúcio leans across his shoulder to peer into his face, Gabriel looks already half-way down; mouth soft and open, lips wet, eyes glassy…

“You liked that, pet?” Lúcio asks softly. He slips to the front, squatting down, hands on Gabriel’s knees. Gabriel blinks slowly like it is an effort to do so, then slides his gaze away somewhat stubbornly. He shrugs his shoulders.

Lúcio is not deterred, hands rubbing warm along Gabriel’s calves, feeling the coarse hair on his shins. “You like it when I take care of you, don’t you? You always become such a sweet boy when I take my time to make you pretty for me…”

Gabriel’s mouth falls open, pupils blowing wide. They eat up the lovely brown of his iris; Lúcio would need to lean in close now to see any color at all. The moment of cautious bliss is somewhat dampened by Gabriel’s quick turn-around; eyebrows drawing together, broad shoulders twitching like he wants to pull them up to his ears.

“Why do you want to make me pretty?”

Lúcio is sure he wants to spit out the last word, though it actually comes out a little breathy. Insecure. Lúcio hums, weighing his options.

Truth be told, he couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about how plain difficult life was with this particular man; how much easier it would’ve been with a person with less baggage; someone that played with him just out of the sheer joy of getting to submit - someone who didn’t fight him every step of the way while insulting him just for good measure.

He also thought that Gabriel’s submission, as hard won as it was, was the sweetest of it all - if he managed to coax it out of him, that was.

“Because I like it. You’re my pretty boy.” He leans up now, bracing himself on Gabriel’s thighs and pressing a kiss against his lips. He can feel his goatee tickling against Gabriel’s beard. Acting on a gut feeling - as he was always quick to do - he adds: “And I’d really like to show you off sometime. Show others what a pretty pet I’ve gotten myself.”

His hands curl around Gabriel’s thick wrist, pulling him up into a standing position. The man is quiet and pliant, face blank as Lúcio’s words don’t seem to have registered yet. He can pinpoint the exact moment when they do: Gabriel suddenly halts on the way to the bathroom, a strangely strangled grunt escaping his throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” He is careful not to look back. He can picture the look on Gabriel’s face - trying so very hard to be impassive and simultaneously giving away everything. He knows he would backpaddle immediately; assure Gabriel that it had been nothing but empty talk on his part - when in reality he has been thinking about it for quite a while now.

Fantasizing of taking Gabriel with him to one of the clubs and put him on a stage there; all that lovely brown skin on display - showing everybody the gorgeous muscles and how out of it Gabriel could become if just handled right. (How very sensual he was when deep down in his head space; smiling a little and turning dream-like and needy into his dom’s hands…)

He pulls again and Gabriel, thankfully, follows. As they walk, Lúcio starts talking again, keeping his voice light and casual; like he hasn’t been rolling this thing around his head for weeks now, wondering how best to broach the subject (and not dreaming that it would simply slip out like this).

“I would really enjoy showing you off. Stripping you for someone to look at. Play with your body. Let them see what a gorgeous sub I have.”

Gabriel’s breathing is deep and loud behind him. His hand, when Lúcio’s grip slips down to curl around his fingers as they approach the shower, is clammy with sweat.

“I’ve already thought of someone… an… old friend of mine. He’s somewhat of a mentor? Like - he showed me the ropes of how to… uh… do this. Y’know.”

He gestures weakly at nothing in particular, getting frustrated at his own cowardice. When he finally turns around, Gabriel is just staring, eyes large, scarred face drawn tight. He looks downright afraid and Lúcio feels like a heel. He throws him a grin and squeezes his fingers, ushering him into the shower. “Actually… just forget about it, alright? It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t like it and that’s absolutely okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He grimaces at his own ineptitude. Gabriel says nothing. He steps into the shower, the muscles in his back tense, nothing to be seen of the earlier lassitude from getting his head shorn.

Lúcio sighs and sits down on the closed toilet lid, watching as the other man soaps himself up. When Gabriel suddenly speaks, Lúcio nearly jumps.

“You don’t want to… give me around. Or something.”

His brain needs a moment or two to get over the thought of giving Gabriel around like some kind of party favor - have other people play with his body and put him through his paces… He likes the thought, if he is being honest, but…

“No. Just one person; and he’d not touch you if you don’t want him to.”

Gabriel is quiet a little more but he at least turns around now. Lúcio can’t say for sure but he has the feeling his sub is watching him from beneath wet eyelashes - assessing him in that scarily scrutinizing way he had.

“Just one person?” he ventures at last, hands starting to slow from their rigorous scrubbing of his chest into an almost thoughtful, sensual slide down his muscled belly. Lúcio watches their descent and how they slide into the thick patch of pubes in his groin.

His mouth gets dry as he realizes Gabriel is on his best way to getting hard. God, but he had a gorgeous submissive.

“Just one, babe. I’d be very proud to show you off to him. Let him see how well I’ve trained you already.”

Lúcio feels like he can almost see the flush in Gabriel’s cheeks. He looks almost reluctantly pleased. By now, Lúcio can see the metal glinting on the underside of his cock, and his fingers tingle with the need to play with that lovely dick - maybe get out one of Gabriel’s toys and edge him for a while…

“I’ll… think about it.”

Lúcio blinks rapidly and lifts his gaze, staring at Gabriel as his chest seems to fill with a balloon of fierce, acute affection for this difficult man.

“You got it, babe. And now c’mere so I can dry you off and play with you until you cry for me, hm?”

.oOo.

Lúcio would have loved to have a camera just to take a picture of Gabriel’s face the first time he laid eyes on Reinhardt. He could see the petulant sneer melting off of the man’s face to be replaced by confusion and then something almost… shy.

Lúcio was fascinated.

It wasn’t like Gabriel suddenly went belly-up for them, but his usual taciturn, ill-tempered barbs didn’t have any sting to them. It was like his head wasn’t in the game, eyes strangely soft and vulnerable, sliding towards Reinhardt again and again. Like he couldn’t fathom the sheer mass of the man.

If Lúcio had to take a guess, he’d say Gabriel rarely had gotten to play with doms that were so much bigger than him - if ever.

“You are gorgeous,” Reinhardt is purring now, standing to the side after they migrated into the bedroom, hands folded behind his back as he watches Gabriel slowly unbutton the shirt Lúcio had put out for him earlier. (And how much Gabriel loved it when Lúcio took care of him like that; even if he would never admit it of his own free will). “AAaaahaha,” he sighs, a good natured laugh rumbling through his chest, eyes roaming the exposed skin and zeroing in on the little glints of silver pierced through Gabriel’s nipples. “How exciting! I’ve never had a pet with such pretty jewelry. I am jealous, my friend.”

He slants his one-eyed gaze towards Lúcio, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking his feet - yet Lúcio is fairly certain he doesn’t miss the way Gabriel ducks his head minimally, shoulders pulling up towards his ears in a surprisingly endearing, bashful gesture. Lúcio could feel himself get breathless even through the broad grin he threw his old mentor.

He’d never gotten to see Gabriel like this before. It was exciting.

“I know. He’s got pretty sensitive tits, too. It’s fun to play with them.”

Gabriel’s head snaps around, staring at Lúcio with an incredulous stare - as if he can’t believe Lúcio would betray him like that. His eyes are soft, though; as soft as his mouth, dropped open a little, face darkening with an embarrassed flush.

“Shit,” he murmurs and returns to the task of unbuttoning his shirt, slowly slipping it off his arms - shoulders pulled up a little higher still. Reinhardt ignores the expletive, eyes intent and kind, his rumbling voice dropping down just a bit more: “Is that so? Do you have sensitive tits, pet?”

Lúcio can see Gabriel’s shoulders flex, his posture getting more stubborn after a moment of him standing frozen, surprised at getting addressed in such a way.

“I guess,” he concedes with a grudging mumble, the tips of his ears burning. Lúcio wants to rub his palm across his shaven head.

“Would you like to show it to me? I would very much like to see…”

Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath, and Reinhardt tilts his head forward, body following the careful angling, hands still behind his back: “Or maybe you would allow me to… test it?”

“No!” Gabriel barks out, sudden and defensive, then back paddles immediately while Lúcio leans forward and hooks his hand into the back of his pants, pulling him towards the bed to sit between his legs. “I mean. I’ll - show you.”

Reinhardt nods jovially, casting a look around for a chair which he finds at Lúcio’s desk.

“That is quite alright. I can barely wait - you are such a pretty pet. I heard Lúcio praise you to high heavens. I’m very pleased that you allowed me to watch in the first place.”

Lúcio can feel Gabriel’s breathing against his chest. It’s fast and shallow - almost panting. His fingers are curled into his pants, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Reinhardt as he seats himself comfortably, his huge form seemingly pronounced by the regular-sized items around him.

Gabriel is absolutely mesmerized by him, and Lúcio has to admit that this playdate has been one of his better ideas.

.o.

“That’s it,” Lúcio mumbles right into Gabriel’s ear, his tongue flicking out to lick along the cartilage because that never failed to make his sub squirm and thrust his chest out for their audience’s viewing pleasure. “Don’t touch them directly,” he orders gently, fingers comfortably weaved together and hands lying on Gabriel’s heaving, hard belly. “Round them some more. That’s it. Why don’t you bump one again? Show Reinhardt how pretty your jewelry glints.”

Gabriel whimpers at that even before he shifts one broad fingertip and nudges gingerly at one end of the barbell piercing. He throws his head back, sweat gleaming on the exposed skin of his scalp, lips pulling back in a silent, needy snarl.

“Have you got your eyes open, babe? Are you watching Reinhardt like we told you to?”

Reinhardt laughs low and rough, leaning forward, elbows coming to rest on his massive thighs. There’s an almost feverish glint in his good eye and Lúcio is stupidly happy about how much his old friend seems to enjoy himself.

“He is. Yes. Like a good boy. You can follow orders well, can’t you? Schätzchen…”

Gabriel groans in the back of his throat, back arching, other hand coming up to lustfully cup both his pecs and squeeze them, his broad palms grinding across the puffy, sensitive mess that are his nipples after playing with them for a while.

“Beautiful,” Reinhardt sighs, leans back, spreads his knees wide and lets both Lúcio and Gabriel see the obscene bulge in his pants.

“Oh God,” Gabriel chokes out, voice high and thin in a way Lúcio has never heard. It almost sounds like a question, lilting up at the end, disbelieving of what he is seeing. He squirms in front of Lúcio, muscles beneath his hands flexing as Gabriel curls his hips and meanly, mindlessly pinches his own nipples between thumbs and forefingers, eyes fixed on their guest.

The sound he makes is nearly comically confused and hurt - like he can’t fathom where the pain is coming from, broad hips shifting. When Lúcio slides his hand down, it doesn’t take long until he bumps into Gabriel’s erection tenting the front of his sweatpants.

Reinhardt laughs, head tilted back, a deep, rumbling sound straight from his very core, it seemed. “Would you look at that! What a little pain slut. How pretty. Hübsches Ding.”

Gabriel shudders, presses back into Lúcio with a force that nearly topples him back onto the bed - against the body mass of his sub, he has no chance, but he presses back as well as he can, trying to give Gabriel enough to lean on.

He sounds so small and vulnerable; the sounds he makes high-pitched and dying as he tugs on his piercings openly now, torments his nipples until they look puffy and positively raw, while his cock keeps wetting through the front of his grey sweats.

“Can he come like this?” Reinhardt asks softly, a little more restraint now, gaze roaming Gabriel’s body. “Just from getting his tits tormented?”

Gabriel lets his head fall back on a groan.

“Oh yes, he certainly can. I tried it almost two weeks straight. He was so desperate the first few times - swore up and down that he was gonna go insane; but he was such a good boy, keeping his hands at his sides, letting me scratch and pinch at his lovely tits until he finally managed to come for me. Fuck…”

Lúcio makes a soft sound, hips rocking into Gabriel’s ass just to relief some of the pressure of his swollen cock. He can still hear Gabriel’s begging: how his voice had cracked, all the vitriol and curses melting away into helpless mewls and shivery enquiries about getting to at least hold his cock; have his big fist around his dick and hug it to his belly as if that would help his predicament any.

Reinhardt looks hungry at that, leaning farther towards them still, a few strands of his gelled back hair dropping into his eyes and making him look a little wild.

Gabriel starts trembling in Lúcio’s arms - a faint vibration throughout his strong body that Lúcio can’t tell whether it stems from anticipation or dread; prey in front of a larger, benevolent predator.

“Were proud of him, weren’t you? Lovely sub coming just from getting his slutty tits played with.” He pauses at that, scrutinizing, watches Gabriel’s reaction and moves on when all he got was a throaty gurgle, Gabriel’s hands twitching at his sides. He sounds husky now, his voice a steady rumble filling the room with ease. “Yes. Lets his Master abuse his tits and comes from it, too. He looked lovely, didn’t he? Come-dumb; messy because he couldn’t hold it any longer. Little whore for his Master’s amusement.”

Lúcio can’t help but bite into Gabriel’s shoulder, hips curling, rocking up more insistently into his sub - dry humping him in a way he hadn’t done yet; always just playing with his submissive’s body, building up to finally fucking that gorgeous, dark space always clinging so beautifully to his fingers.

He feels feverish. Sick in the best way. He had always known that Reinhardt and he meshed well but never realized just how good the older dom really was; riling Lúcio up almost just as much as Gabriel.

He is playing with them both: letting them dance along the tune he’s setting, and Lúcio couldn’t start being mad at him even if he wanted to. His submissive is lapping it up by now, basically eating right out of Reinhardt’s palm as he makes soft, hurt sounds, the fresh stubble on his scalp rubbing against Lúcio’s throat and cheek. He is panting like a dog, loud and almost obnoxious, and Lúcio wants to fucking record it and listen to Gabriel on bad days when he needs a pick-me-up.

He jerked at getting called ‘whore’, gasping, squirming, and Reinhardt pounces immediately on the weakness.

“Is that what you are, Schätzchen? A whore?” He sounds kind as he says it - a little breathless, even. When Lúcio peers over the swell of Gabriel’s shoulder, Reinhardt’s face is flushed a little darker like he imbibed too much.

Gabriel jerks again, gurgles something unintelligible and shakes his head vigorously as he tries to turn away for the first time that evening, trying to hide his face in the crook of Lúcio’s shoulder. His skin feels feverishly hot. It fries Lúcio’s brain cells even though he knows he should be the one keeping a cool head - leading his sub through the experience of getting shared with another dom for the first time.

He mouths mindless and wet against the side of Gabriel’s face as he shudders, keyed up and high on the endorphins coursing through his body. It is by chance that he looks over to Reinhardt - sees the strict line to his mouth, the severe set of his eyebrows.

He halts and Reinhardt tilts his head forward.

“Your submissive is disobeying a rule, Sir.”

Lúcio blinks dumbly, brain sputtering as it first comes up short - difficult to think clearly when his arms are full of his big pet being as soft and needy as he’d rarely seen - before it finally kickstarts once more. The heat is still there; his cock still feeling overstuffed, balls ripe and sensitive, ready to jerk out an orgasm and cream Gabriel’s back like he always denied himself since starting their play… but it is more contained; more a hard, hot ball of need bouncing in his midst instead of an all encompassing wave of heat swamping and drowning him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he croons, hands gentle but insistent as he starts denying Gabriel the reprieve of hiding himself away, making the weakly struggling man turn back around. “You need to watch our guest, or did you forget already? And he asked you a question. Don’t be rude. You’ve been such a good boy the whole evening, babe.”

“That he has. I bet he already earned himself a few treats for later,” Reinhardt adds, voice gentled down from earlier, gaze kind. Gabriel huffs - tries to growl, and build some of his walls back up - but it comes out like a pathetic sigh and he lets himself get repositioned again; back to his dom’s front, forced to look at Reinhardt, even if he turns his head a little - only glances from the corner of his eyes.

Reinhardt has leaned back again; body language loose and self-assured, one large hand rubbing thoughtfully against his jaw. When he speaks again, he has changed tactics once more, and Lúcio wonders whether this is deliberate rather than accidental: not merely a dom trying to find out what a sub needs but rather actively trying to unseat Gabriel and make him lose balance.

“I bet he would look gorgeous crawling for you,” he says. There’s no smile on his lips, face intent and serious, bushy eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he stares at Gabriel - takes him in, inspects him, imagines him crawling already.

“Little rings instead of those barbells and a silver chain to connect…”

Gabriel’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out. His hands stutter, hesitate, stop where they had been restlessly clawing at the bedding - one of them finally reaching slowly, hesitant like he is not sure whether he finds the thought hot enough to jerk off to, for the hard flex of his cock, pre-cum seeping through the material of his pants, getting them tacky and clingy.

“S-Sir!” he rasps - nothing more; voice wobbly and needy - enough to make Lúcio breathless.

“You’d like that, babe?” he croons with a slightly wobbling voice, and hooks his chin over the swell of Gabriel’s shoulder, watching Gabriel’s big fist clench over his cock, then reaching for it as well, smaller hand across Gabriel’s knuckles, easily taking control over what movements they were doing and how hard they were gripping. His sub was so easy to concede power to his smaller dom. “You wanna crawl for me sometime? Have me lead you around on your gorgeous tits? I could buy you a present, babe… pretty rings and chain just for you. Let me lavish gifts on my obedient pet.”

Gabriel - actually nods. A soft dip of his chin as he keeps squirming but sits like a good boy. Lets them play with him.

When Lúcio glances at Reinhardt, his old mentor looks satisfied; like a cat that got the cream - or more like a lion in his case.

His hands are on his knees, large fingers tapping slowly, idly, the gaze of his good eye roaming Gabriel’s body from the blissed out, soft expression on his scarred face to the glint of steel in his nipples, down to the tent in his sweatpants, cock flexing and pressing against the wet material.

“Will you show me your cock, little sub? Show me all of your body? I bet you can, Schätzchen. You’ve been so good for us the whole evening. Let me see how pretty you are. Your Master wanted to show you off to me, after all. He’s so proud of his gorgeous sub…”

Gabriel obeys mindlessly, movements clumsy, eyelids heavy - and Lúcio can’t even comprehend how much he adores his submissive in that moment.

.o.

Reinhardt isn’t banished from touching any longer.

Gabriel is almost sub-vocal; animalistic in his need as he stands between the bed and the chair and lets his sweatpants fall. He is not shaky on his knees, but all his movements are slow, measured, sluggish - like he has to focus on every motion and think it through before acting on it.

He is almost ridiculously careful when he lifts the elastic band out of the way of his cock to not pinch it, and still it bobs comically in the air, large and so heavy with blood it droops downward against one thick, muscular thigh.

Gabriel stands there, glancing between his dom sitting relaxed on the bed, happy grin on his face, towards their guest, a certain kind of vulnerable longing filling his expression until Reinhardt moves - lifts his hand and beckons him closer with a crook of his fingers.

Gabriel follows it seemingly helpless.

Lúcio unconsciously holds his breath when Reinhardt curls a large, warm hand around one wide hip, then lets it rush out when Gabriel doesn’t react other than sliding closer, letting himself get easily pulled between the lazy spread of the large man’s legs.

“Atemberaubend,” Reinhardt croons at him, looking Gabriel up and down. Lúcio has no idea what he’s saying but the tone of his voice is more telling anyway. It is weird to be watching his pet play with another dom - not at all like he thought this evening would go - but he can’t deny how gratifying the sight of Gabriel easily trusting is. He seems to be far down in his head, putting his hands onto Reinhardt’s broad shoulders without fuss when asked to do so and lets the large, callused hands explore his body further.

Reinhardt, for his part, moves like he has all right to the sub’s body; gentle yet unrelenting, feeling him up, squeezing his thighs and ass until Gabriel has to go up onto the balls of his feet - traces along the valley of his spine and takes his cock in hand to weigh it in his palm and give it a loving squeeze. He patiently listens to the sub whine and gives him a pump from his warm fist just for good measure - just to keep him on edge and wanting - before he lifts the cock farther up and inspects the metal he had glimpsed earlier.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you.”

Gabriel squirms on the spot, toes curling against the naked floor boards, hips starting to hunch forward, trying to fuck against Reinhardt’s exploring fingers until the dom barks: “Still, now.”

Gabriel gasps, fingers clutching fists full of Reinhardt’s shirt - and Lúcio waits for the backlash; Gabriel’s petulant snarl, the embarrassed tilt to his shoulders when he feels like he got caught doing something illicit… it doesn’t come, though. He lets his head fall forward, watching Reinhardt play with his body, legs trembling like a young colt’s just from the effort of standing still like he got ordered to.

“You are a good boy,” Reinhardt suddenly says, voice pitched so low, Lúcio can barely understand - it is like it’s only meant for the two of them, and he feels bad for listening in… just not enough to stop.

Reinhardt has placed his large hand onto Gabriel’s belly, fingers spread, just pressing his palm against the tight muscles as he looks up at him, the fingers of the other absent mindedly tracing a deep scar on Gabriel’s back. “You are a very good boy - letting me play with you. Letting your Master show you off. He is very happy with you; he tells me so often. You don’t need to fight everything he asks of you - it is okay to feel happy when he praises you, even if it is just the little things.”

Lúcio’s fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles getting pale as he stares at Gabriel’s broad back. He seems to have stopped breathing, standing totally rigid, hands in fists at his sides.

Reinhardt’s voice drops a bit lower still, and Lúcio has no hope of catching what he is saying now; can only watch the strange jerking motions of Gabriel’s shoulders, and the movement of his head as he shakes it first and then nods it - slower, less assured.

Reinhardt’s fingers stop their ceaseless up-and-down motion along the scar, then he suddenly leans back, voice louder once more, easily filling the room.

“Well then go to your Master, pretty pet. Play with him - and maybe I’ll have a treat for you later.”

He lets one hand fall into the spread of his thighs, gripping himself unabashedly, smile back on his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Gabriel tilts a little drunkenly on his axis as he turns around. His cheeks look strangely blotchy - like his body can’t decide whether it wants to flush or not - and his dark eyes look a little too wet; but when he drops onto his knees and crawls towards Lúcio on all fours, it is hard to focus on much else than the gorgeous creature as a whole - and Lúcio has trouble breathing.

He is mute when he spreads his legs, and lets his sub nudge between his knees. It is not the first time that he had Gabriel suck his cock, but it is the first time that Gabriel was looking so soft and sweet while doing it: face open, pretty brown eyes never leaving Lúcio’s face as he leans down to rub his cheek against the wet head of his cock.

A sticky smear remains when he pulls back to drag his tongue along the length, and Lúcio can’t help but touch it with the tips of his fingers, focusing on Gabriel’s little sound of happiness and how shockingly pink his tongue is. It looks like sweet candy and Lúcio wants to pull him up and kiss him but he doesn’t have the strength to do it: not with Gabriel humming a low sound of appreciation, lips pursing as he suckles on the very tip of the cock he’s playing with, teasing himself just as much with the taste and warmth as he was his dom.

He looks lovely when he finally slides farther down; takes Lúcio in on a steady, smooth glide that has his toes curl and the tips of his fingers prickle. He’s never met anybody that could give head as well as Gabriel could.

“You love cock so much, don’t you?” he murmurs, hand sliding across Gabriel’s scalp, feeling the gratifying rasp of the stubble against his palm. Gabriel goes nearly cross-eyed with bliss, nudging closer still until Lúcio puts one leg across his broad shoulder to accommodate his needy submissive.

Gabriel makes it sloppy and wet, liberally drooling and noisily slurping as he moves his head in slow, self-indulging drags, tongue pressed almost too harshly against the sensitive head, cushioning it as much as it was pushing it up against his hard palate.

“God, baby boy,” Lúcio groans - whines - back arching and fingers spasming against the back of Gabriel’s shorn head, heel digging hard into the ground as he gets pushed to the razor sharp edge of pain and pleasure.

Gabriel is still staring at him, eyes almost vacant, large, warm hands on Lúcio’s thighs, rubbing mindless circles with his thumbs. He is not moving much; mostly suckling in quiet satisfaction, and when Lúcio starts using him - hands framing his face and leading his head to dip in deep, pushing until he is just about to slip down his throat - Gabriel lets him.

“Beautiful,” Reinhardt sighs. He has left his spot on the chair to drift over to them, and lowers himself into a squat next to Gabriel with a low groan and a breathless chuckle when his joints pop loudly. “Gettin’ too old for this,” he murmurs, watching with almost polite interest as Lúcio tilts Gabriel’s head for both their viewing pleasure as he playfully nudges his cock against the inside of Gabriel’s cheek, making it bulge obscenely.

“He’s such an obedient boy.” Reinhardt lifts his hand slowly, and when Gabriel doesn’t react - eyes glassy and still fixed up on his dom’s face - he starts rubbing a big, rough fingertip against the outline of Lúcio’s cock.

Lúcio hisses, grinning sharp and with clenched teeth, eyebrows drawn together as he shifts Gabriel’s head once more, pushing him down and making him gag soft and wet around his cock, throat massaging, little puffs of air ruffling the tight curls at the base of his cock. Just a little more and Gabriel’s nose is pressed against his warm skin, his submissive’s hands no longer moving, just gripping tight and almost bruising as he lets himself get choked, eyes clenched and tears shining at the corners.

“He is,” Lúcio huffs, fingertips spasming against Gabriel’s scalp when he feels his throat squeeze down again, harder this time, Gabriel’s body getting tense the longer he has to stay down without air, getting bracketed on both sides by the doms surrounding him, bearing down on him, keeping him in place and locked down at their mercy…

Lúcio counts under his breath, an easy countdown of five before he abruptly lets Gabriel back up. The submissive wrenches his head back with a large, liquid gulp of air, a thick strand of saliva connecting him still to the flushed head of Lúcio’s cock. His eyes are huge, chest heaving, body shaking… and still he remains kneeling, lets himself get caged in by the patient, iron will of his dom and the huge body of a stranger.

“Pretty boy,” Lúcio coos, chest feeling too small for the bubble of fierce, warm affection filling him, as he leans down and hugs Gabriel’s head to his belly. “My pretty, good boy.”

Gabriel is still huffing and very quiet, but his hips are moving - shimmying left and right, subconsciously seeking friction for his cock which is lying blood filled and heavy in his lap.

Reinhardt watches quietly, a little smirk nearly hidden by his beard. He lets them calm down for a moment before he starts shifting, large hand carefully rubbing warm and soothing along the submissive’s trembling, scarred back.

“I think he earned his treat, now. Come on - up with you.”

Gabriel is almost kitten weak at this point, big, muscled body lax as they pull him up unto the bed and make him stretch out, a soft sound of pain dribbling from him as he straightens his legs out after kneeling for so long.

“Here. Keep your hands where I put them,” Reinhardt tells him, speaking slow and careful so Gabriel will understand through the fog clearly filling his head. He presses them next to his shoulders, squeezing his wrists for good measure to get his point across. Gabriel stares at him with an almost vacant expression before his eyes start roaming again, seeking his dom and settling on Lúcio when he shifts to be within easier reach.

“And your legs… nice and up…” Reinhardt murmurs, arm hooking below Gabriel’s knees, pushing them up until his lovely ass is exposed, testicles peeking out large and dark between the thick muscles of his thighs.

When he starts squirming, Lúcio shushes him, one hand reaching for Gabriel’s pierced cock and curling around it - not moving, just holding on to give him something to fixate on.

“Let us reward you,” he croons, and when Gabriel calms down again; looks, in fact, eager when he sees Reinhardt fish out the bottle of lube, large, thick cock pulsing warm and needy in his palm, he has to think again about how much he wants to capture these moments. Take pictures of his slutty, trusting sub - film him and how gorgeously he submits, so he can show him later and make him appreciate how obedient he is for his dom…

He gets distracted by Gabriel groaning and squirming again, though this time downwards, trying to get more of the wide fingertip pressing their way inside, and… fuck if that wasn’t a gorgeous sight.

.o.

Gabriel is needy for kisses, and Lúcio tries to accommodate him as often as possible, but the sight of Reinhardt fucking him on his thick fingers is too mesmerizing to ignore for long. He’s been allowed to stretch one leg back out, the other one hooked over Reinhardt’s shoulder, giving him access to the sweet, little muscle currently clenching around just two of his fingers.

They look obscene, stretching him open, thick knuckles pressing against the rim and forcing it to open up for more, deeper, wider. Gabriel’s hands were curled into sweaty fists at his ears, his chest jumping with panting breaths as Reinhardt pushes in deeper, a low rumble of satisfaction rolling from him like thunder.

“You are so very soft inside,” he comments, his other fist curled around his cock, slowly pumping himself to relieve some of the almost painful tension. Lúcio tried to imagine the wide, dusky head pressing into Gabriel’s body, and failed. He wonders whether Gabriel could take him. Whether he would take him if Lúcio asked him; trying so hard to work himself onto the obscene dick, let his little cunt get spread beyond repair…

“So very soft and warm. Pretty little hole so perfect to cushion cocks, hm? You were built for it, weren’t you?”

Gabriel makes a small sound of confirmation even as he slants his eyes away and to the side, not able to look at either of them as he carefully curls his hips, fucking down against the broad fingers fucking him, his cock lying warm and heavy across his clenching abdomen.

“I bet your dominant loves to fuck that sweet little space. You keep him so warm and snug inside your body, don’t you?”

His voice is almost just a meaningless rumble, pitched so low Gabriel mindlessly nods along, mouth wet and open, eyes fixed on the large cock in the big fist - how the head glistens with pre-cum.

“He’s not had the privilege yet,” Lúcio interjects, a little smirk curling the corners of his mouth. He feels like a king, watching his pet get fucked and sampled by another; how Gabriel shows his best side off. “We’re still working on it.”

“I see.” Reinhardt turns his head and presses a tickling kiss against the outside of Gabriel’s knee, his fingers pushing in a little deeper still until Gabriel’s mouth opens wide in a cry that has first a false start, then stutters out of him broken and pathetic at the feeling of two broad fingertips rubbing up against his prostate for the first time.

“I bet your Master will have a treat for you these coming days. You’ve been so good, little submissive.”

Gabriel angles his head back, pressing it into the cushion, eyes clenched shut as he tries to ride out the waves of clenching, warm pleasure rolling through him, his hips jerking against the unrelenting pressure located somewhere deep in his pelvis.

Reinhardt glances towards Lúcio and they throw each other knowing, feral grins.

.o.

Gabriel’s hands are still curled at his shoulders - sweet little kitten paws that he hasn’t dared taking down since Reinhardt had put them there with his own large hands, warm and insistent as he’d pressed them to their place.

He’s not looking at them - he’s not looking at anything in particular, just coasting on the feeling of his release and the warmth sloshing through his body like a wave, muscles shivery and twitching as they slowly relax from their cramp.

Lúcio watches as his sub’s wide hips curl into the air slowly, sluggishly, as if he was still fucking - as if his body hadn’t registered yet that everything was done; those shockingly large fingers no longer fucking him and spreading his poor rim apart.

His cock looks delectable, lying in the mess he made on his belly, still thick and chubby, inviting for a mouth to lick him until he cried of over sensitivity.

Reinhardt is breathing carefully deep where he crouches next to the bed. Lúcio wonders whether he could actually go again. The thought of watching his old mentor jerk off across Gabriel’s face once more makes his heart pound an almost painfully fast tattoo against his ribs.

Seeing Gabriel blissed out and turning his face into the thick ribbons of cum splashing against his cheeks… Seeing him trying to lap it all up, not caring about looking silly as he stuck his tongue far out,restricted by nothing but his Master’s firm voice…

…it had been nice. Very nice. Fuck, but he wanted to see this more often: His pet playing with other doms, showing them what a good boy he was, letting them jerk off on him and thanking them with the same breathy voice he’d thanked Reinhardt with earlier. It had went straight to Lúcio’s core, feeding that place that told him to squirrel Gabriel away and keep him safe…

“Are you feeling well, babe?” he croons, head still hot and feeling like it is filled with cotton, cock pressing insistently into his sub’s thick thigh as he stretches out next to him and lays an unrestricting, possessive hand across his throat. “You looked gorgeous right now.”

He rasps it right into Gabriel’s ear, feels how his submissive is warm and pliant, making soft, high pitched noises like a little animal, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the palm of Lúcio’s hand.

“Maybe Reinhardt can come again… I bet he could if you were very nice to him. Wouldn’t you like that? Play with his big, fat cock some more?”

Gabriel groans, low and wrecked, a drawn-out sound that Lúcio couldn’t even hope to interpret. He turns his head, trying to hide his sticky face against Lúcio’s shoulder, obviously loathe to admit that he would very much like that. Reinhardt only laughs, rumbling and tired - but not denying Lúcio’s proposition, he notices with a spike of excitement.

Maybe his sub needs a little more encouragement…? Help him shake off the lethargy, even though he has to be so very tired now, lovely body stretched out for them to do as they please. He presses a kiss against Gabriel’s temple, feeling the scratch of his shorn scalp against his cheek and whispers with a low rasp: “I could record you playing with him, pretty boy… So we’ll have something for later, and you can see how you-”

His reaction time is sluggish. Maybe he would have been able to dodge had he not been so fixated on his own, throbbing dick - had he, in fact, had even an inkling that what he had said was upsetting to Gabriel.

As it is, he didn’t.

All that registers is the sudden angry pounding on the side of his head, ear ringing with the blow he had received. There is a commotion and loud voices and it takes Lúcio surprisingly long to realize he was staring at the ceiling, knocked flat after receiving a sharp elbow to the temple.

The throbbing is so sharp and angry, he wonders whether he’s bleeding, hand uncoordinated as he pats the side of his face, trembling fingers nearly pushing into his eye before he manages to lay them at his temple.

There is no blood on them, but he can already feel a swelling starting up. He blinks slowly, then registers how quiet it had become all of a sudden, and that more than anything finally jerks him out of the confused stupor and makes him sit up abruptly, nearly knocking heads with a concerned Reinhardt.

“Are you well?” He is holding a towel and when he presses it to the side of Lúcio’s face, he realizes that it is wrapped around an ice pack.

Lúcio hisses and squeezes his eye shut on that side - before stopping that as well because every twitch of his facial muscles seems to hurt. He stares mutely at Reinhardt, then looks around the room, gaze settling finally on Gabriel sitting on the chair Reinhardt had vacated earlier, slumped forward, elbows braced on his thighs.

He was still naked, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Yeah. Oh man… What the heck…?” He gingerly takes the towel out of Reinhardt’s hand and presses it against the throbbing himself. It already starts to calm down, and the roiling in his stomach is settling. Reinhardt is keeping a close eye on him as he shimmies his way to the edge of the bed but relaxes when he gets on his feet without wobbling.

“What happened?” he asks the room at large, though his eyes are on Gabriel. He isn’t looking at either of them and, as if feeling his dominant’s gaze on him, lets his head sag even further down. He is shaking, Lúcio registers now.

He feels a little numb, confused about how things could’ve changed so quickly from the warm, post-coital cuddling to… this.

“Gabriel?”

He steps closer and carefully leans down to catch his submissive’s face - wincing as the blood surges into his head at the new elevation - and frowns when Gabriel immediately turns away with a gruff grunt, shoulder curling up to shield himself even more.

“What happened? Did I scare you or something? I mean…”

He reaches a hand out for Gabriel’s shoulder and sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how cold he is; the sweat coating him out of nervous fright, he realizes now.

“Damn. Come on, you’re ice cold, you’re going to get sick. Reinhardt, help me.”

Reinhardt hums and nods, quietly assisting as they start putting a vaguely resisting Gabriel into a hoodie and sweats.

The sub is shaking so subtly he’s nearly vibrating, breath coming in uneven little gulps of air until Lúcio wonders whether he is crying - but when he dips his head and catches a glimpse of his face, he’s just staring down onto the ground, bottom lip caught between his teeth, face worryingly pale beneath his dark skin.

“Do you want to shower?” he asks him slowly. Gabriel jerks a small glance at him. His pupils are small as pinpricks. He looks ready to bolt and Lúcio feels sick to his stomach. He’s never seen Gabriel like this. Angry and stubborn and spitting mad, yeah - but not as quietly afraid as he was now, standing rigid between the two doms and getting a little green around the nose as if -

He bolts, suddenly, running straight for the bathroom, and just a moment later they can hear him retching.

Lúcio stands helplessly, eyes seeking out his old mentor while his temple is still throbbing distractingly.

“What happened?”

Reinhardt stares at the half-open bathroom door and lifts both shoulders in a small shrug.

“War flashbacks, I’d say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reinhardt turns his head so he can peer at him with his good eye, bushy brows raised in surprise.

“Are you sure you don’t understand?”

Lúcio slings his arms around his chest, slowly rubbing palms up and down his upper arms. He stares almost moodily into Reinhardt’s face before he feels the angry denial melting away, and his shoulders sag a little.

“He… he never told me anything. I didn’t want to - I didn’t want to make him afraid of me. Holy shit, have you seen his face? He hates me.”

His voice is breaking a little and he is annoyed at his own childishness. Reinhardt huffs and places a large hand on his shoulder to give him a friendly squeeze.

“You know that’s not it. And we all know you didn’t do it on purpose. I just…”

His gaze slides away and back towards the door. There’s still the occasional retching to be heard; mostly there’s ominous quiet coming out of the bathroom, though. Reinhardt’s face looks tense. Strangely pensive.

“Can I leave you two alone? I want to… look something up. It’s just that something has been nagging me since I’ve seen him and I want to check it out. Will you be okay without me? I don’t think he will become violent again.”

Lúcio bites the tip of his tongue to stifle the question but it bubbles out anyway.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

Reinhardt smirks at him and pats his back.

“I taught you better than that.”

Yeah… he did.

.o.

Gabriel was still cowering in front of the toilet, his hood up, though if his position was any indication, he was lying his head on the toilet seat and simply staring ahead of himself.

Lúcio let the door softly bang against the wall as he pushed it open, and when Gabriel doesn’t react - and screams at him to get the fuck out - he lets out the breath he had been holding, stomach unclenching from the tight, painful fist it had been in.

“Hey. You feeling better?” he asks softly, crouching down behind his sub, hand rubbing warm and soothing along the broad back. He had at least stopped shaking, even if he wasn’t turning into the touch like he usually would.

“Guess so.”

He sounds petulant, and Lúcio has to smile a bit - only with one side of his mouth so it didn’t put another strain on what was by now a sizeable bump. He carefully lets himself down next to the toilet, leaning against the cool wall. It feels good; helps him to calm down and ground himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Lúcio plays with the hem of Gabriel’s hoodie, quietly nodding along even though Gabriel could not see him.

“You have an insane left hook. All that training you’re doing is paying off. Maybe you can teach me some day? So I can at least defend me and my skinny ass.”

Gabriel hums low, non-committal. He leans up, sitting a little straighter, though he has his head still curled away, not letting Lúcio get a glimpse of his face.

“I’m sorry. For hitting you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for making you upset.”

Gabriel flinches at that, fingers drumming restlessly against the toilet lid.

“Do you… want me to go?”

“No. I want you to come closer.”

He lifts the hem he’s been playing with and tugs gently, gratified when Gabriel moves and comes closer, a soft sigh escaping him as he tucks his big body against Lúcio’s side; makes himself small and lays his head against his dom’s chest.

Lúcio slowly rubs a hand up and down his arm, thoughts running in circles, foot bouncing along a rhythm that suddenly sprang up in his mind. Gabriel is carefully quiet against him.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I’m very sorry about that,” Lúcio says at last, his hand stopping and just lying curled around Gabriel’s impressive bicep. “I can understand that you don’t want to talk about it, but…”

“Don’t say it,” Gabriel suddenly whispers, his voice high and child-like, shivering like a thin cord that got plucked too hard. “Please.”

Lúcio plowed on, fingers digging in deeper when Gabriel tried to pull himself away: “I love you and I want to understand. You’ll have to tell me one day, if you want to keep this… us… running. This is not meant to be an ultimatum, just… this’ll not work in the long run. What happened to you is just… it’s standing there and I can’t get around it or into it without you helping me. It’s - You’re just… blocking me out, dude.”

Gabriel has ducked his head lower with his first words and Lúcio can feel how he even stopped breathing for the moment. A couple minutes crawl by before Gabriel says slowly, slurring a little as if drunk: “I don’t need to… now… right?”

“‘Course not. Take all the time you need. Doesn’t have to be now or even today or even this week, but…”

He feels a little jumpy and shivery himself now, a live wire buzzing beneath his skin, the tips of his ears burning. He’s never told Gabriel how he feels about him and now it was just kind of hanging in the room awkwardly.

Gabriel doesn’t say more, just pulls his knees up, balls himself into a small ball. It takes a while until Lúcio feels the soft way his shoulders bounce every now and then, and takes him even longer to realize Gabriel is quietly crying, not making a sound.

He feels horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	111. McCree/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Big boy whining' should not be a hot phrase for me but somehow, it is. Someone sexily humiliating Jesse for it. Such an eager, jumping, big cock. More blood there than in his head. His tangled bush. That obvious, slutty body of his. Exposing his hairy tits and squeezing his belly. Making him wear lacy underwear that doesn't fit him. Laying his luscious thickness over their knees to spank his glorious fat ass. Jesse feels clumsy and oversized and over full and so young again. Big silly boy.

“You’re so silly,” Genji coos, foot placed with careful force on McCree’s cock, pressing it into the softness of his hairy belly. McCree breathes out noisily through his nostrils, lips pressed into a tight line and head falling back as he rolls his sturdy hips up into the pressure, fucking that lovely, fat cock against the unyielding sole of the cyborg’s foot.

“You’re already so worked up. Just from a little bit of pussy?”

McCree’s tits jump as he jerks. They’re just chubby enough to have a lovely jiggle to them, big, hairy biceps tensing where he holds himself up on his elbows. He loves the way Genji’s heavy accent wraps itself around naughty words.

Genji smirks.

“Hey. Hey, look here.” He waits until McCree lifts his head again to reach down and hook fingers into the synthetic material shielding his cunt and pull it aside to show off the plush, synthetic lips - how already there was glowing green sticky wetness smeared across them. He was just as easy as McCree, but they enjoyed it differently.

“Do you want a taste?”

McCree’s chin was on his chest as he stared up at him with large, canine eyes of worship, beard looking as tangled and as unkempt as his bush. There were times Genji sat back and just watched McCree talk to others; watching the way his jaw moved and fantasizing about how good it felt against his cunt - just as delicious as his pubes when Genji crammed himself full with that big American cock.

He almost misses the McCree nodding, licking his lips, a drawled “Yeah, please” rumbling from the wide barrel of his chest.

“Should I give it to you now, though?” Genji teases, fingers dipping into his slit and spreading it for McCree’s viewing pleasure; letting him see the candy green stickiness lighting the darkness of his cunt. Always so easy to fuck him in the dark; even McCree bumbling and half-asleep could stuff his cock in a glowing, warm hole and work his magic with those wide hips rolling easy and relaxed…

He didn’t need to hear McCree’s rumbling whine to get into motion, although it was a nice bonus. He gave his cock another loving nudge before sitting down on his thick belly in a smooth, fast motion, dragging his pussy against the thick hair growing over his belly button and smearing his candy juices everywhere.

“McCree,” he whispers, fingers splaying across the hirsute chest as he rolls his hips, drags the fat, sensitive clit Mercy had give him across the coarse hair of his belly. “Jesse.”

His voice is high and urgent, nearly imitating McCree’s usual impatient whines. He can feel him grip his ass, large hands easily cupping him, and almost thinks he’ll urge him up and towards his soft, greedy mouth.

Instead, he helps him move and fuck himself against the thick wall of muscle of his belly, His eyes wide and nostrils flaring as he stares down his body. McCree looks almost boyish in that moment.

So eager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	112. McCree/Reaper Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit man just gimme more young brat McCree calling Gabe 'Daddy' as he gets the lights fucked clean out of him. (Hell, time fuckery and young blackwatch McCree gets fucked by Reaper and still calls him 'Daddy')  
> Same anon as timefuckery but MAN GIVE ME TRANSGENDER YOUNG MCCREE CALLING GABE/REAPER DADDY. Just fuck me up fam.

It was the worst when Jesse still had the mind and audacity to laugh as Gabriel felt him up; ranging above the skinny body, mouth on one nipple barely cushioned by the little bit of fat that remained even after his life in Deadlock, and big fingers diving deep into the mess that was his cunt, hidden beneath the unkempt tangle of his pubes; a sweet little space for Gabriel to wreck and get soft and spread on his thrusting, twisting fingers.

If Jesse still could laugh, fingers scratching Gabriel’s shoulders up, knees jittery and jumping next to his hips, it meant that he was doing something wrong. That he hadn’t made Jesse sorry for being such an infuriating slut that could never sit fucking still.

He grunts, Jesse’s breathless giggling ringing in his ears, and bites meanly at the small, brown nipple just to get McCree to make another sound. He chokes on his goddamn laughter and becomes absolutely still for a second, fingers trying and failing to grab at Gabriel’s shorn head, spasming at his scalp and pressing his face close to his chest, mashing his scarred nose into the small, hard pillow of his tit before he whispers a small, almost awed sounding “Oh.”

Gabriel snorts, eyebrows drawn in concentration, fingers sliding through the mess of slick between Jesse’s thighs and carding away the generous tangle of his pubes, seeking… seeking… and finally finding Jesse’s clit.

Jesse howls and bucks up, legs lifting into the air without prompting, long narrow feet bouncing in the air as he tries to make Gabriel rub him the way he likes it; in sharp and hard little circles right across the fat nub as he kept him filled with two fingers, testing the give of his walls, how ready he was…

“Daddy,” Jesse whines suddenly, his voice all over the place. Gabriel grins and simply changes nipples, teeth sharp as he tests the very edges against the small nipple.

Jesse forgets to breathe, eager fear making him pat Gabriel’s back down with shivery hands. He fears his teeth just as much as he looks forward to them.

“Daddy,” he whispers, hips twisting, fucking up, “Daddy, please.”

At least he wasn’t laughing anymore. He always forgot to be a little punk shit when Gabriel put his mind to it. Jesse is tall and broad in the shoulders and still his snatch looks so damnably tiny whenever Gabriel nudges his cock up against it. In the diffuse light the soft insides are as bright red as a stop sign in midst of his pubes. A slick, glinting gash for Gabriel to nudge the head of his dick through; let it take a sniff of the treat it was to get.

“Yeah? You want your Daddy to fuck you like this? With your skinny legs in the air like a whore?” he growls and tilts his hips forward, the very tip starting to slowly, agonizingly spread Jesse open.

He goes silent, then. Gabriel can see his toes curl and spread rhythmically where they hang in the air, just about bouncing in his peripheral.

“Never get a fuckin’ word out when you’re supposed to,” he grunts, pushing in deeper, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as the squishy walls immediately close around him warm and welcoming; trying to suckle him deeper into that goddamn trap.

Jesse’s voice has become very high and very soft. Little ‘oh… oh… oh’s as he waits for Gabriel to fill him; stretch him out on his commander’s big cock until he can feel it warm his belly from the inside.

“You’ll learn,” Gabriel promises against a scruffy jaw, large hand cupping a small, hard tit and squeezing it. “You’ll learn, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	113. Soldier76/DVa/Hanzo Cuckold

“What’s the problem? You were begging me and I was so kind to indulge you and even cancelled a stream. That’s pure money, y’know. Now you’re not working for it.”

D.Va pouts, sinking farther down in her chair and noisily crinkling her bag of chips between her fingers. She peeks at the Soldier above her knees thickly socked feet bouncing at the edge of her chair.

He isn’t looking at her. The tips of his ears are red and his muscles are tensing. He’s old but his body is delicious - D.Va can never get enough of his muscles and the hair covering his pecs and arms. He always smells so good.

She’d never tell him as much, though, obviously. It would undermine her dominance, she felt like.

“You got the lube?” she asks him, stuffing a chip into her mouth as he nods and curls a big hand around the bottle. He squirms on the bed. His earlier giddy excitement at her agreeing to play had quickly melted away to an almost stubborn kind of anxiety. He digs his toes into her pink bedding.

He looks hilariously unfit for her girly room - that big, bad soldier - but that makes it even better. He’d wear cute rabbit onesies if she told him to. He was under her absolute thrall, and the thought alone made her pussy throb.

She lets her head roll back against her chair. It’s the chair she uses to lounge in for her streams, and she glances pointedly at her PC.

“I don’t got all day. It’s not too late to tell the guys I’m coming after all…”

She looks back and smirks when he finally lets his legs fall wide, lips pulled into a vague grimace of distaste.

My, my… he was fussy today.

“Aww what’s that?” D.Va glances at his cock; big and juicy looking even soft as it was, lying against his belly in the soft thatch of grey pubes. “I thought you were ready to go. C’mon, now.”

She flicks a chip at him and he flinches when it hits his bicep. D.Va snickers and puts the bag to the side, rubbing salty fingers clean on her pyjama pants.

“You’re so bad at this. I really do need to help you with everything. Oh well.”

She grabs her phone, punching in a short, succinct message, then turns back to the Soldier watching her warily, one big hand curled around his limp cock, eyes focused on her face, seemingly trying to anticipate what she had planned this time.

D.Va smiles at him, a small, sweet grin as she uses the heels of her feet push her ass up minimally, shimmying her pants down just far enough to bare her ass to the room.

She can hear his soft, excited intake of air and doesn’t bother to hide her condescending smirk. He was still so easy to rile up. Even just a glimpse of her plump lips outlined by the thin, old pair of panties was obviously doing it for him, his balls pulling up a little towards his body as his fist clenched tighter around his cock.

“Look,” she coos, spreading her feet apart to let him see better. She hooks fingers into one leg hole and pushes the fabric unceremoniously aside, airing out her cunt - already slick from just watching him submit to her with ill-grace.

She spreads her lips for his viewing pleasure as much as possible in her cramped position and is fascinated once more by how deeply enamoured he seems to be with that sweet, little slit - cock already swelling impressively in his fist, trim hips curling up into the touch with well-practiced ease.

“There you go. Good boy,” she purrs, and because she can’t help it, she lets one sharp nailed finger slide through the slick, dipping minimally into the little opening, rubbing against the very edges that so many of her team mates were fantasising about spreading out on their big cocks, and making her bounce on them…

“I showed you mine - now you show me yours.” Her finger dips in deeper, eyes heavy lidded as she watches him fumble with the bottle and dripping the slick onto his thigh before he manages to get it on his fingers.

He hesitates then, eyebrows drawn together, a boyish blush spreading on his rugged face as he glances first at her, then down his own body as if being able to see that sweet, dark space between his cheeks.

“Come ooon, do it. I wanna see that little cunt of yours. You got to see mine, after all. Right? Be a good perv, now.”

He grimaces again, head turning away, broad shoulders pulling up to his ears. He looks as reluctant as they come, but still he dips his slicked up fingers down beneath the swell of his balls that D.Va liked to play with, and experimentally slipped them into the darkness there.

She can’t see too much like this; he’d need another pair of hands to spread his ass open - but his reaction is sweet nonetheless: a little jerk and an audible click of teeth as he throws his head back.

He lets go of his cock in favor of pressing a hand over his mouth and she feels like he probably bit his tongue.

“Silly boy,” she chides breathlessly, almost as an afterthought. She is sitting forward now, her naked ass on the chair, cunt rubbing along the smooth leather as she watches his knuckles move - a shy up and down of his finger as he tickles his own hole and gets it wet with lube.

His chest is heaving, slim nostrils flaring above the edge of his hand.

What a sweet, sensitive virgin he was. Getting so worked up by his own finger.

There’s a soft click from the door and D.Va glances away from the sight of his eyes closing in bliss, hand tilting as he seemed to get a little bolder already, pushing in deeper, wriggling a thick, callused digit into that tender, unused passage.

Hanzo looks almost as reluctant as the Soldier had earlier, dark liquid eyes taking in the scene in seconds and sensual mouth curling into a moue of distaste.

He, like the Soldier, obviously had had his own plans of how her invitation had been meant.

D.Va grins at him - a little too broad, feeling almost drunk - and gestures at the bed with unrestrained eagerness.

“There you go! All for you.”

.o.

Her boys liked to pretend like they were mean, sometimes. Especially Hanzo often was of the impression he was a prince better than anybody else - that they should probably thank him for his time.

When it came down to it, thought, they were too sweet to be mean to each other.

D.Va watched, fingers slowly circling the fat nub of her clit, as the Soldier curled arms and legs around Hanzo, clinging to him like a limpet and hiding his face against his shoulder. He was making soft, high sounds, that rough voice broken open by the slow, deep dicking he received just as much as his poor little hole.

“That’s it,” D.Va croons, but she feels like the two aren’t even listening to her anymore. Hanzo’s forehead is pressed into the pillow next to the Soldier’s head, hiding his face just as much as his friend as he nudges his hips forward again, strong, broad back curling as he pushes inwards and drags his cock against those clinging, soft walls.

It was dark outside. The room stank of sweat and sex and excitement. Hanzo had taken long enough to spread the Soldier open to even make D.Va anxious for more, her fingers meanly pinching her puffy nipples as Jack had started opening up for more and more, face beet red beneath the pink-ish scars and thighs trembling something fierce as he’d been shown how receptive his old body still could be; rim stretching around Hanzo’s fingers, and then his thick knuckles, feeling horribly empty whenever they pulled out and let the swollen walls close up on nothing.

That first push in had been her favorite part so far: the sheer dumb wonder on the Soldier’s face feeling a real life dick nudging against his sweet snatch for the first time, the smooth, large head pushing teasingly before Hanzo let it glance away and up, bumping into the warm swell of his balls.

They’d been so quiet, her boys. She supposed there were no words needed, really; they were both desperate men sniffing after her cunt, eager to do anything she was bidding them just for the off chance of getting a go at her; having her stretch herself out on those sometimes intimidatingly big cocks.

There really was nothing to say about it. She wanted to see them fuck - so they did it; Soldier’s fingers digging into Hanzo’s biceps as the archer finally started pushing in in earnest, strands of greying hair slipping out of the bun and falling into his sweaty face. She couldn’t see him the way she sat but she liked to think he had a look of extreme focus - the same when he was looking out for a target.

She’d almost wondered if that was just it: a new job to complete - until she saw the red tips of his ears; the almost bashful tilt of his head as he dipped it down and nosed against the Soldier’s cheek; how he let his mouth hover open and wet just above the Soldier’s panting lips, breathing him in as he pushed into that softened, relaxed muscle and forced him to accept the girth of his cock.

Jack had looked over to her, then; blue eyes large and amusingly confused like he couldn’t understand what was happening; as if the concept of a dick in his ass was too complicated to grasp. (Or maybe he wondered what life choices had let him there? How he could be so hot and needy for a young woman’s cunt that he’d do this for her?)

D.Va had grinned, sharp and predatory, fingers wriggling obnoxiously happy at him.

“Good, is it?”

He had not answered.

By now, D.Va was pressing the edge of her hand into her little slit, not even moving - just holding it there, vaguely pressing against the throbbing, sensitive swell of her clit as she watched Hanzo shuffle closer, hooking arms beneath the good Soldier’s knees to lift them up in the air.

Jack made a soft sound of alarm at that, face still pressed into Hanzo’s shoulder, fingers scrabbling at the bed. His hips got curled higher into the air, body weight pushing unto his shoulders - made more vulnerable by Hanzo’s desire to get closer and push deeper.

D.Va could guess his predicament: getting fucked with his feet in the air like a hooker. He wasn’t protesting either, though.

She bit her lip, finger pinching her nipple again, the large neck of her pyjama top - … one of the Soldier’s old sweaters - pulled down far enough to let her small breast at the air, the nipple an angry red from her mean, sharp fingernails.

There was a mess of slick and sweat on the leather seat of her chair and she couldn’t bring herself to care - not when she had two men that would clean it up for her and thank her for the privilege.

The new position let her see better, too - the sway and swell of Hanzo’s balls; the thick jut of his cock spreading the swollen rim open, everything generously wet and glistening.

Hanzo was fucking like a man possessed; low, rough grunts punched out of him as he humped forward, muscles tensing, tattoo rippling like it was alive beneath his skin.

He was such a pretty man, she supposed, leaning back, idly petting her puffy lips as she tried to calm herself down some more - not willing to come before the two.

If only he weren’t so arrogant.

Maybe she should do something about it sometime; when he cornered her in an unused corridor again, his hands going places they had no right to be, his breath smelling of the sake from his gourd.

He always thought he had more privileges than the others, this yakuza princeling. He could use something to cool his temper; get him on speed with the news that his cock really was nothing to write home about - just as much as the other pets’.

She smirks, fingers pinching her clit, toes curling deliciously as Hanzo slows down from his almost frantic fuck into a more leisurely pace. He is groaning like a workhorse - a continuous low noise of exertion as he drags his cock through the clinging, wet grip of the Soldier’s cunt while Jack is almost suspiciously quiet, slick mouth mashed against the point of Hanzo’s shoulder, muffling every sound against the shifting muscle and hard bone.

Such silly boys.

So sweet for her.

She’d let them come this time. They’d earned it - and she had as well. She wanted to sit back and enjoy the sight of Hanzo’s balls jerking and his cock swelling as he pumped Jack full.

She wanted to be there in their post coital bliss, pushing their sweaty, meaty bodies apart with self-assured negligence until Hanzo slipped out of the newly fucked hole and fell heavily on his side so she could insinuate herself between; make them cuddle up to her and keep her warm with their disgusting, stinking bodies tacky and sticky with cum and spit.

She wanted to be really up close to the Soldier’s face - ignoring Hanzo; that pretty, stoic face of his, the languid stretch of his body, the fact he knew how gorgeous he was, knowing herself how much he hated being ignored in favor of others - when she reached down and pushed two or three little fingers into his raw, swollen hole, playing with the warm mess Hanzo left inside of him as she purred: “Just like the real thing… right?”

She couldn’t help how much she wanted to break them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	114. Genji/Hanzo Impregnation

Hanzo slips inside Genji’s room like a shadow. Still, the door could not slide shut behind him fast enough for his taste, fingers already hovering impatiently above the keypad to the side, waiting to lock it down from the outside world.

“You look like a criminal, Hanzo. People could think you have something… illicit in mind.”

Genji’s voice was teasing and full of laughter. He could see the tension pulling Hanzo’s shoulders up defensively towards his ears.

“It is not… - you have no sense of propriety.”

“Says the one thirsting for his brother’s body,” Genji replies almost gently, slowly standing up from the edge of the bed. “You could have just knocked. It is not like one brother visiting the other would raise questions.”

“We should not be doing this in the first place, Genji. We should be - what are you wearing?”

Hanzo had finally turned around, dark eyes widening imperceptibly in surprise at the colorful kimono Genji was wearing. The cyborg tilted his head in towards him, spreading his arms from their demure fold in front of him and twirling once obligingly.

“I thought I would make myself pretty for you, brother,” he murmurs, a certain kind of breathlessness already stealing into his filtered voice. He dips his head down, the gesture demure enough even with his visor still on to give Hanzo the feeling of getting glimpsed at from beneath lowered eyelashes. “I missed you. It’s been a… long time.”

He affects calmness beneath his brother’s calculating gaze, yet still, Hanzo can see the small motions of his fingers fiddling with the edge of one long sleeve. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Genji nervous when about to have a tryst.

He is at him in three long strides, one large hand placed in the back of his little brother’s neck, gripping tight and feeling the minimal give of the plating beneath his fingers. The armor felt nice; smooth and surprisingly warm to the touch. Genji is carefully still for a few seconds longer, then reaches up and unlocks his faceplate with a soft hissing of the mechanics.

“I missed you as well, little brother,” Hanzo tells him with a low, sincere voice when they are able to look each other in the eyes. His brows are drawn together in a fierce scowl, the corners of his mouth downturned in a perpetual frown. Hanzo always looks angry - even when divulging his affection, whispering it like it was a shameful secret.

Genji swallows slowly almost laboriously, the click of it loud in the room - drawing Hanzo’s sharp gaze down to his throat.

“It’s been such a long time,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer still until their noses are almost brushing. He reaches for the back of Genji’s head, jerking for a second when he can’t feel the shock of silky, short hair he’s had once upon a time, but covers for it by slowly wrapping the scarf around his fist. “Your body had been… different, the last time.”

Genji’s pupils blow wide, the rigidness melting from his back all of a sudden, and the corners of his eyes crinkling in a little smirk.

“Oh my… your pillow talk still leaves a lot to be desired, though,” he teases, hands lifting to put them with splayed fingers across Hanzo’s chest, one cheekily slipping beneath the cover of his clothes to get at naked skin. “Were you wooing the ladies like this? ‘You’d been prettier a few years ago. Put on a little weight, did you?’”

Hanzo’s face finally softens at that, a vague expression of shame crawling through the twitch in his eyes. He clears his throat, obviously looking for something to say - and getting beat to it by Genji, who pushes him back playfully and takes a seat unabashedly astride his brother’s lap when he comes to sit on the edge of the bed Genji had left earlier.

“You’re hopeless. Just stop talking. I…” He falters, then, bright eyes sliding to the side, teeth gnawing at the synthetic bottom lip. “My body has changed more than you think, Hanzo,” he finally says, voice low and careful, hands slowly sliding up and down his brother’s naked arms after shoving his clothes out of the way; more to calm himself than his brother.

Finally, his eyes slide back towards Hanzo’s face, slyly gazing at him out of the corners. “I could show you… if you want?”

Hanzo’s nostrils flare, strong hands gripping down tighter on his brother’s splayed thighs.

“I would very much like that.”

.o.

There was a hot, splotchy blush on Hanzo’s cheeks and Genji hid his grin behind the back of his hand lest he offend him with his giggling.

He didn’t need to ask his opinion - it was more than clear in the predatory widening of his eyes, the sharp line of his shoulders.

Still, he asked, knees falling apart a little farther, heels digging into the bedding to subtly tilt his hips upward - offering his pretty cunt to his brother’s gaze: “You like it?”

Hanzo was kneeling on the bed, fingers tightening into fists atop his thighs as he stared and obviously held back from touching. His gaze hadn’t left the curious space between his little brother’s thighs since he had reclined and pulled his colorful garments apart, exposing the smooth mound of his crotch.

He’d been almost eerily quiet; sitting and staring as Genji’s fingers had slipped between his thighs, manipulating the thick protective fabric covering him until it had slid up and retreated into his armor.

“It’s very sensitive,” Genji purrs finally when it becomes obvious that Hanzo will not be able to get a word out, fingers tickling across the dark grey mesh making out the lips of his cunt. He breathes a little harder, excitement making his blood boil already. He is nervous and giddy, and he wants Hanzo to say something. To tell him how pretty he thought his little brother’s pussy was. He wanted his brother to like it.

Genji bit his lip, fingers spreading the plump lips, feeling how silky the material felt, the mesh so small it seemed smooth.

Hanzo finally did make a noise at that - a choked kind of groan as his shoulders curled forward. He managed to hunch while kneeling, mouth pinched, eyes fixed where Genji held himself open for his perusal.

Genji was no longer hiding his grin with his hand - he was just pressing it against his mouth now, feeling too hot and wondering why his fans hadn’t kicked on yet.

He thought of years and years back; when they first had started playing with each other in the way their parents had not been anticipating; exploring each other’s bodies; showing the other what felt good.

They had been in much the same position back then; his big brother kneeling between his legs and watching with that same fierce scowl and ruddy red cheeks as Genji had fingered himself with slippery digits, his young cock curving up against his belly sleek and hard, teen body trembling in excitement…

“You’re staring,” Genji murmurs indistinct from behind his hand, yet spreading his fingers wider still, making that sweet little hole stretch under Hanzo’s focused stare.

“You are…” he finally says - chokes - fingers curled tightly into the loose fabric of his wide pants, “your… it’s… glowing.”

Genji feels heat slosh through him like a wave, cheeks pounding with the sudden rush of blood. He almost felt ashamed; belly flipping in on itself, breath stuttering in his lungs.

“Yeah it is,” he rasps, fingers slipping low and dipping in; pulling a little more of his slick out, candy green on his fingertips, glowing like the running lights scattered on his body. “It’s not poisonous,” he says when Hanzo remains silent, staring at the sticky mess stretching wet and glowing between the tips of two fingers.

“It’s also not… the only glowing thing.” He tilts his head, finally taking his hand from his mouth, watching Hanzo’s face carefully as he opens himself up once more for his gaze, gently petting fingertip showing him the shy nub of his clit, just starting to peek out at the top of the folds.

He can’t help the soft whine in the back of his throat - the twitching thrust of his hips up against his own finger, face feeling so hot the longer his brother stares and inspects… he feels almost painfully sensitive, a small pinch to the plump lips already having him gush more slick, bright and obvious against the dark grey backdrop of his armor.

“You’re so sensitive,” Hanzo finally says, deep voice even lower than usual, hands coming up to put on Genji’s knees and rub along the insides of his thighs. He can’t feel him without the stimulation of the sensors tucked just beneath the thickly armored parts, but he tilts into it even so, thumb pressing against the glowing nub of his clit.

“Why don’t you… why don’t you taste, brother?” he whispers, squirming, hips tilting up restlessly into his own mindless fondling. “I made myself pretty for you. You can…” his voice slides lower, coming out throaty and hot. “You can pretend I’m your little sister, nii-chan. You always liked that, didn’t you? Told me what a sweet little cunt I have and how you want to…”

He stops with a strangled groan, back arching palm slamming against the wall behind him and leaving a small indent as his brother suddenly surges forward, mouth open and wet and greedy for his little brother’s slick cunt.

.o.

Hanzo’s beard is messy with his slick, and Genji is fascinated by the sight whenever he pulls back to take a breath, tongue lapping the fluid from his lips. His nose, whenever he pushes back in with vigor, nudges against his clit while his tongue delves in deep, rubbing against the sleek, artificial entrance before encountering spongy, fleshy insides.

He seems fascinated with it; the tip slowly, carefully mapping where cool, metallic mesh leads into softness, his eyes heavy lidded and a little out of focus.

Genji would have made a comment about it - his brother’s far-away, dreamy expression when he got to explore a cunt - but could bring himself to form the actual words. He was too preoccupied with moving in gentle, careful curls of his hips, trying not to break Hanzo’s jaw while heat crawled through his abdomen and settled tingling in the tips of his feet.

He hadn’t even known he could feel something like that. He hadn’t known it could be this way.

An accidental press of sharp teeth against the synthetic mound of his clit has him keen and jerk, hand slapping in front of his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling.

“You always liked a little pain,” Hanzo comments idly, fingers sliding into the mess he made, testing the small, easily accommodating entrance and slipping inside. He sounds smug; maybe even haughty. Genji wants to smack him but only curls his fingers around his brother’s ponytail and holds on as he starts to fuck down, spearing himself on the thick digits.

Hanzo shakes his head once with an annoyed growl, but doesn’t seem too concerned with dislodging him. Instead, he places his mouth around Genji’s clit and sucks with a lewd, slick sound that reverberates in Genji’s head, heart beating so hard and fast, it is almost painful.

“I love your pussy, Genji,” he suddenly admits, tongue snaking out to cradle the fat nub, then flick against it so hard, Genji’s knees jerk up instinctively; trying to shield before the sensation gets registered as good. Very good. Yes.

“Such a pretty, little peach you have. I could eat it for hours. So sweet and pretty… I feel like it’s been made just for me.”

Genji stares down, watches his brother’s dark head, the way he placed his cheek against the inside of his thigh, seemingly whispering the sweet nothings directly to his cunt, fingers moving in slow, self-indulgent thrusts, rubbing against synthetic walls and organic ones alike.

Hanzo’s face looked… serene. Genji jerked again.

“M-Maybe it has been?” he whispers, slowly letting go of Hanzo’s hair in favor of stroking over his head in little, feverish passes. “I haven’t played with other men…”

Hanzo groans and tilts forward, pressing small, suckling kisses against the plump lips, suckling the dark grey mesh between his teeth until Genji’s breath hitches and he reaches for his own clit, tapping against the little nub.

“Only played with toys, have you? Didn’t want other men to have what belongs to your brother?” He leans up finally, glowing slick caught in the whiskers of his beard, the sharp point of his chin. His hand swivels, palm cupping his brother’s cunt, fingers stilling deep within him - simply holding on; protective and possessive.

Genji’s mouth falls open, head tilting back in silent submission as he nods slowly - suddenly shy in the face of his brother’s ardor; Hanzo’s eyes practically burning as he crowds above him, a dark silhouette against Genji’s decadent sprawl and the bright colours of his kimono.

“Let me fuck you, little brother,” Hanzo whispers heatedly, mouth hovering above Genji’s, wet, warm breath fanning against scarred cheeks. “I need to feel you on my cock. Such a sweet little peach only for me. Stretch you out so you’re molded perfectly for your brother. Would you like that? Ruined for other men by your own flesh and blood? You’d come to me begging, asking to be plugged up; little nuisance just like all those years ago when you broke one of your favorite toys.”

Genji his breathing in sharp little pants, already nodding along feverishly, belly burning with need as he feels his cunt pulsing, throbbing against his brother’s unrelenting, almost painful grip.

“Nii-chan…” he whispers and Hanzo grins wolfishly, tongue snaking out and licking a broad, messy stripe across Genji’s open, lax mouth.

“Sh sh sh. I’ve got you. Just stay still… show me that gorgeous little snatch. Yes… yes, little brother. Show me where you want my cock.”

Genji has spread his knees once more from their earlier cautious clench, hips tilting up, fingers spreading his cunt for his brother’s perusal after Hanzo had pulled away, working - almost fumbling - at his sash.

It is like earlier, Genji offering and Hanzo taking in, his words still hanging in the air thick and almost ominous.

“Hanzo… Please,” he whispers, voice rough, insides clenching until he feels a new dribble of slick trickle out of him, body working in smooth, eager whirrs as it produces the substance.

“Always been so impatient for cock, little brother,” Hanzo purrs, big fist slowly stroking across the shaft.

“I’m going to bite you,” Genji hisses back, teeth bared even as his knees tilt farther apart, hips shimmying up in a desperate, wordless plea.

Hanzo simply laughs at him and shuffles closer.

.o.

Genji has curled his hands around the metal of the headboard because he doesn’t trust his own strength any longer.

Hanzo is spreading him open, smooth and perfect, and he can’t get enough of the feeling. He feels like he would claw his arms open in an effort to get him closer, deeper, farther.

Hanzo has stopped laughing at him and is simply quiet; mouth soft and open as his hips rock in little, aborted motions that drive Genji wild, the flared head of Hanzo’s cock rubbing against all the right places.

“So perfect… so perfect,” he is chanting low, breathless, eyebrows pulling together in what almost looks like annoyance when Genji clenches down on him involuntarily, pussy clinging to his cock wet and silky, reluctant to let him go.

Genji wonders how it had to look; Hanzo’s stout cock smeared with his glowing green slick; the neat patch of greying pubes which he kept meticulously out of sheer vanity matted with it as much as his beard - Genji’s cunt smeared all over his body, leaving its mark.

He liked the thought. He wanted to mark his brother up like a dog; drag his cunt across his belly and rub off on him until he was gushing; marking him as his. After all, they had always belonged to each other.

“I will fill you up, Genji,” Hanzo whispers suddenly, a hot, intimate rush of air right next to the shell of his ear, Hanzo’s hips swivelling and snapping a little sharper as if to make his point clear. “Get you hot with my cum and think about a pretty little womb nestled in here right for me.” His hand places itself splayed on his brother’s abdomen, and Genji can feel the heat of it seeping through the armor, hidden little sensors easily picking up on it. His breath hitches, then stills - lungs seizing as he claws at the bedframe and listens to his brothers words, hearing every syllable even as he dips his voice nearly beneath a whisper. “It’s gonna be here just for me to fill; I’ll get it nice and warm for you, little brother. Fill you up right where you need it.”

The muscular body shivers above him, hips taking up their pace, drilling into Genji and nudging deep, dragging along his spread, clinging walls and making him jerk whenever he pushes in especially deep, blunt tip digging in near painful against sensitive equipment.

“You’d love it. Having your brother fill up your slutty womb. I know you, Genji. You’re a little freak, you’d love it.”

Genji laughs breathless and high - a little insane, if he were to be honest, hips tilting up, trying to give back just as good as he got, blood rushing and pounding in his ears; trying to give just as much love back to his big brother.

“I’d love it, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he whispered back, little sounds of assent pushed out of him with Hanzo’s frantic fucking, everything in his body starting to pull deliciously tight with an orgasm hovering around the edges. “Fuck me, Hanzo. Fill me up, please? Get me nice and round with your cum, nii-chan. Get your little brother full with it.”

Hanzo bites the lobe of his ear sharply, the pain surging through Genji’s body and getting misinterpreted as another bout of lust.

He just hoped the walls would withstand his caterwauling when he would finally come on his brother’s cock after so many years of feverish dreams of having him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	115. Hanzo/Soldier76 Anal Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how about soft cock tigh fucking?

“No. Keep still. Yes… just like that. Tense them for me a bit - ah exactly. Perfect. Damn.”

Soldier’s hand is unrelenting in Hanzo’s hair, fisted tightly at the back of his head, keeping it pulled back enough to stretch his throat and make it difficult to swallow.

He is rocking his hips, cock sliding through the mess of lube he left between the archer’s upper thighs, their clench warm and hard around him.

“Don’t get sloppy now,” he rasps right into Hanzo’s ear, free hand gripping at his hip, keeping him nice and steady for the slow, leisurely thrusts. “Keep them pressed together. Give me a nice place to fuck into, and maybe I’ll be persuaded to switch out for your slutty hole later.”

Hanzo groans - Soldier can feel the heat of his eager flush against the lips pressed to the shell of his ear. He grins and rewards him with another thrust - this time a little sharper; a snap of hips that has his pelvis noisily slap against the supple cheeks of Hanzo’s ass, the swollen head of his cock nudging against his balls.

Hanzo’s breath hitches. He is restless before him even though he tries to keep still enough for the Soldier to fuck into the warm, tight space between his thighs. His back bows forward, ass angling into the cup of 76′s hips. He’s as needy as they come, hoping wordlessly, mindlessly, he might re-evaluate his decision after all and push back, back, back, let the wide, blunt head of his dick nudge against that hungry, well-fucked hole Hanzo’s so very generous with providing everybody with.

“Would you need preparation?” 76 breathes, breath hot and wet as it fans across the side of Hanzo’s face, his fingers rubbing mindless circles in the sharp hipbone, tracing the cut of his muscles down towards his groin. “Or could I slide just right in? Maybe you’re still wet with cum… Who used you, Hanzo?”

He hums, fingers encountering what he’s been looking for, chin hooking across the muscled swell of Hanzo’s shoulder to stare down his body and watch himself play with his cock - soft and flushed a little pink.

It looked vulnerable on the palm of his wide hand. A sweet little dick whose head was just a bit wet beneath the foreskin - the only outward sign of how excited the archer was by this.

Hanzo makes a weird sound when he feels him finger his cock; an almost gurgle that dips into a deep, throaty rasp when the Soldier rudely wriggles a fingertip into the tender opening of his foreskin, the rough pad of the digit rounding the spongy, wet tip again and again.

“Don’t get lazy,” he reminds him in a low, heated growl, hips still pumping, fucking the warm space between Hanzo’s thighs, other hand now shoving his head forward, allowing him to look down; both of them watching how he plays with the soft cock; lets it dance on negligently wriggling fingers.

“You need preparation, Hanzo?” he asks again, pushing forward, watching the warm mound of his testicles move as they get nudged by his cock. “You need me to fuck you on a few of my fingers? Get you ready for dick?”

Hanzo mutely shakes his head. His mouth is hanging open. He’s drooling a bit; enraptured by feeling a big cock tantalizingly close to the needy, aching space he wants it to be, and the sight of the good Soldier playing with his cock, jerking it with a loose fist as if he really was hard.

76 breathes out noisily; watches the clear string of pre-cum dripping out of the folds of Hanzo’s foreskin, listening to his fast, shallow breathing.

“Could you come like that?” he rasps, a sudden spike of excitement making him stutter almost to a stop.

Hanzo makes a soft noise. Broken and helpless.

The Soldier curses under his breath and rolls on top of the archer, teeth bared in a snarl, eyebrows pulled together as he fucks the space between Hanzo’s thighs in earnest, spurned on by the thought of Hanzo being such a cock slut he’d be able to come just from the thought of getting his ass reamed.

“Goddamn slut. So good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	116. McCree/Reaper Shotgunning

“Could at least let me finish my smoke, kid. Shit…”

Reyes lets himself get pushed back against the edge of his desk. Jesse mumbles something into the warm space beneath his chin, voice high and whiny as he presses close, arms tight around his Commander’s torso. 

McCree is young and greedy, and it shows in situations like this: When he is high off a training session done well, and cocky enough to ignore his own laughable awkwardness and be pushy about what he wants.

Reyes can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the attention or the puppy eagerness as McCree traces wet, suckling kisses against his jaw, dragging his lips against Gabriel’s goatee and seeking for his mouth.

Gabriel grins, free hand coming up to cup McCree’s cheek, helping him to angle his head better for them to make out.

“You been hot for this for a while, eh?” Reyes mumbles against Jesse’s lips, vaguely aware of the smoldering cigarette still between relaxed fingers. McCree whines again - a short affirmative as he nudges himself closer, warm breath puffing excitedly against his Commanding Officer’s lips.

“Easy now,” Reyes sighs, body twisting minimally, to better slot their hips together. Already he can feel McCree’s cock warm and insistent against his own crotch. 

“No patience,” he admonishes in a low rumble, thumb wiping soothingly against the kid’s cheekbone. He is pressing slow kisses against his quick, pretty mouth, not letting himself get deterred by Jesse’s overeager whining; how wet he’s already gotten their lips as he huffed with an open mouth, eyebrows drawn together in helpless concentration as his hips buck forward against Reyes.

It doesn’t take long until Jesse starts calming down and lets Reyes take over - lips becoming slack and receiving for the slow, indulgent kisses the Commander presses against them, eyes heavy lidded, watching the flush on McCree’s face and how it brings out the small dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Every now and then he pulls away, breathing deep and carefully controlled as he slides his thighs farther apart and lets the kid slot more firmly in between. He’ll curl the hand with the cigarette over Jesse’s shoulder, taking a slow drag as the kid waits impatiently for more kisses, one hand sliding beneath Reyes’ hoody, pressing large and insistent and warm against the small of his back.

“That’s it,” Gabriel hums, voice smoke rough, feeding the last tendrils to the kid whenever he starts kissing him again; tongue sliding out in a slow drag first along Jesse’s lower lip, then dipping inside teasing and shallow because McCree was too easy too please; too quick to distract by his own cock bumping against an answering bulge, hips jerking and rutting forward.

“Shit… yeah…” Gabriel sighs, tugging at the kid’s too long hair absent minded, feeling the gun calluses against his back when Jesse starts petting him there.

He jerks when a sharp tone slices through the warm, panting cocoon they wrapped around themselves, turning away from Jesse’s suckling, needy kisses to peer behind him at his desk. There next to his steaming cup of coffee was his phone, display alight, moving slightly across the wood with the force of the vibrations.

He thinks about taking the call for about three seconds before Jesse is moving, hands sliding down and gripping the plump swell of Reyes’ ass - really digging in and pulling him towards his rocking hips, and… yeah. Yeah, whoever’s calling can try again later when he’s not busy.

Reyes even helps McCree then; lets himself get pushed up onto the edge of his desk, thighs spreading for the kid in welcome, heavy boots crossing loosely behind the backs of his knees as McCree starts humping him with vigor, sweet, high sounds spilling from his throat, cheek lying almost dream like against his commanding Officer’s broad shoulder as he dry humps and gropes.

Gabriel wants to be annoyed by his puppy enthusiasm - wants to scoff and push him away and tell him to fucking learn a thing or two before coming here again - but he can’t. He’s too much into this; how greedy McCree is, unabashedly chasing his orgasm, rutting against him in small, desperate motions that make his head feel like it was filled with cotton.

He liked rubbing one off against McCree, dry humping like teenagers in his smoke filled office, listening to his hot, little sounds of need and hugging his hard body to his own.

He maybe wouldn’t admit to it freely - but he liked it. Very much, so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	117. Reinhardt/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> may I request some Rein breeding 76's slutty ass, please?

“Keep still, my friend. Keep still. You don’t have much time.”

“Reinhardt…” 

“I know. I know… shhh.”

Reinhardt pets a huge paw down Jack’s back, then slides it up the side, beneath his shirt to get at the sweaty skin. His fingers easily span the curve of his ribcage.

Jack shudders and wheezes when Reinhardt moves again, minimally moving the thick girth of his cock - sliding it along clinging, wet walls.

“Keep still so I can fill you up,” he rumbles, voice pitched carefully low. They can hear people outside the dressing room. The door isn’t locked. “You’ll need to go in a few minutes. Just keep still. Just keep still and you can go out and have your belly warmed by me…”

Jack bites at his gloved hand, stifling his embarrassing, high keening noises as Reinhardt leans up again and starts fucking with sharp little thrusts that seem to drill deeper and deeper until it feels like the broad, blunt tip of his cock is about to push out of Jack’s belly.

“Just like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	118. Hanzo/Guards

Hanzo gets weepy when they don’t stuff him with cock. He loves feeling the smooth texture weighing down his tongue and the spread of his rim burning from too little lube to smooth the way.

Still, they liked to tease him every now and then and deny him just to hear him whine for their cocks, dark eyes brimming with tears and cheeks filling with hectic red spots - as if he was actually fearing them denying what he needed most. As if they had any choice but to obey the kid of the boss when he was vying for a fuck, naked beneath loose clothes and pulling their hands into the generous folds to feel him up whenever none of the other servants were around to witness.

Hanzo is not especially good at sucking cock but he is enthusiastic about it - drooling liberally as they fuck across his soft palate, trying to nudge their way into the soft, jerking grip of his throat and teach him how to let them deep dick him. He is eager but still chokes too easily, spit dribbling down his chin, body shaking with suppressed coughs.

He always looks at them, though - they never had to teach him that sweet little trick; his eyes always wide and curled up, trying to watch their faces and anticipate how good he was being for them.

Sometimes - often times - this was not enough, however, and he would let the cock he’s suckling on pop out of the warm, silky grip of his lips to snuggle his cheek against the shaft, the dripping tip smearing into the ink black hair at his temple.

Just as he was doing now; nose shyly rubbing into the wiry hair at the base of the guard’s cock, barely nudged against the hard belly by the slow, leisurely thrusts from behind. He seems unperturbed. In his own little world filled with kind dicks that filled him up and warmed his belly with creamy, thick loads.

“Are you happy, daddy?”

If he is ever put-upon by their resulting laughter, he has never shown it outright - rather the opposite.

“Shit, he’s clenching down,” the guard behind him grunts, stilling the already slow thrusts to slide the pads of two fingers slowly along the stretched, pouty rim. “His little cunt is gripping down like he doesn’t want to let my dick go any time soon.”

The man in front of him is undeterred by the snickering around them; large hand coming to lie atop the young heir’s head, tilting him back so he can nudge the wet tip of his cock against the receptive, open mouth; Hanzo’s lips are already fucked soft and pliant; plump from sucking the third dick in a row.

“I would be happier if you didn’t stop sucking my cock, baby boy,” he says, voice not unkind, dipping into the soft, dismayed ‘o’ when Hanzo’s eyebrows pull together in a frown, eyes widening.

“Hey… he’s your daddy now? I thought I was daddy…”

Hanzo turns his head, releasing the cock trying to nudge deeper with a wet little sound, smearing the sticky tip against his cheek in the process. He looks torn as he gazes up at another of the guards. Confused like he couldn’t understand what the problem was.

“You are…”

He lifts his hand, curling it around the half-hard cock because it’s there and it’s close and he couldn’t help but want to get his hands on every dick in his vicinity if he was like this. It’s still tacky from fucking his ass earlier, the flesh spongy in his lovingly cupping palm - but it starts filling obediently enough when he squeezes it and lets it slide silky and slow through his fingers, eyes fixed on it like he wasn’t getting dicked from behind; like there wasn’t a second one nudging against the corner of his mouth and the guard in front of him huffing impatiently.

“I am?” the third man hums, sidling closer.

“Daddy…” Hanzo is mindless, whining for it without really listening to what is being said - just instinctually answering in a way he feels is correct and will assure him the most cocks. When he leans over, mouth falling open; already hungry for the sticky cock in his grip, the man in front of him fists a hand in his hair and jerks him back again, face flushing angry red.

“Ey! None of that, now. You already got a cock to service. Be a good boy, Hanzo.”

It is so easy to guide him; have his scattered attention diverted from one cock to the other, his usually sharp eyes hazy and drunk looking as he sticks his tongue out obediently to welcome the spit slick cock back inside, mumbling an indistinct, “Yes daddy…” as he does so.

There’s no hint of his usual awkwardness; his almost painful need to be the best and sharpest and seem perfect all around. On his knees and with his rim puffy from thick cocks spreading it, creamy cum getting fucked out of him in a frothing mess, he seems as content as he never was when kneeling quietly next to his father attending business meetings.

He groans through his nose when he feels the cock in his ass flexing, blunt tip pressing into the spongy, giving walls lovingly hugging it, then scrambles to stick his arm between his legs, fingers almost frantically covering the swollen gape of his rim, working to push the sticky strings of cum bubbling out and down his perineum back inside while the guard behind him slowly stands with an exhausted grunt and makes way for another to take his place.

While he has to wait, he plugs himself up with shaking fingers.

His nose is running and his belly feels tight. He looks pale except for the redness rimming his eyes and the reddish bruise his mouth had become.

“What’s up?” the guard in front of him asks, hand gently carding through sweaty hair. Hanzo mumbles, trying to talk while lapping at the cock idly rubbing across the plush cushion of his tongue.

The guard huffs and pulls back just enough to let him properly speak.

“Hurts, daddy.”

“Your cunt? Sure it does…”

“Yeah,” another guard jeers, pulling the door shut behind him. He is fresh-faced and cocky still; the eagerness not yet fucked out of him by the insatiable heir of the Shimada Clan. “Burns, doesn’t it? Daddy can make it all better.”

His cock is out within seconds, black tie thrown over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get dirty as he kneels down and spreads Hanzo’s ass with both hands to watch the soft gape of his hole around the shaking fingers stuffing him.

Hanzo’s eyes roll up when his fingers are forced out by a new cock pushing insistently against him, ears burning and pounding with his heart beat when he hears them speak about him:

“I can just slide in, right? There’s so much cum here…”

“Think so. He’d make a ruckus if it hurts.”

“Yeah, he’s lubed up enough. Think he’s got three or four loads in him now.”

“I kinda just wanna see him getting raw dicked. Bet he starts jumping like a rabbit when he gets fucked by a dry cock.”

“How ‘bout we ask him?”

Hanzo’s mouth is hanging open to better breathe, tongue out and trying to get a lick at the cock just inches away from his nose. He looks confused when he gets gently slapped with two fingers, gazing up at the serious face looming above.

“You okay? Wanna get fucked by a dry cock?”

He blinks slowly; then again; then a third time, his knees inching farther apart, sleek, young cock surging up between his thighs, slapping against his tight belly until a thin string of pre-cum connects the tip to just beneath his belly button where it dabbed his skin.

“Daddy,” he whines, low and drawn out. Pleading. It’s not an answer at all, but they take it as one anyway, laughing and petting him with an affectionate negligence only reserved to favorite pets.

Honestly, he doesn’t register the first couple of inches, eyes focused on the cock in front of him; how it is getting jerked just inches from his face, a harsh hand in his hair keeping him from actually reaching and sucking the fat tip into his greedy mouth.

When the sensation registers; an uncomfortable burn as he gets spread open wide once more, he has barely time to whine a pathetic “Daddy…” before his attention is drawn away once again by warm cum splashing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; the low, guttural grunt of the man above him ringing in his ears and making his belly feel warm and fuzzy.

“Fucking stellar. Good boy. Keeping still for daddy. That’s it, goddamn.”

His hand is still around a sticky cock he’s neglected completely, the guard happy with his slim, callused fingers forming a tight tunnel for him to fuck into, but now Hanzo is getting agitated; his face warm and dripping with cum, his ass warmed by a cock fucking into him that feels bigger than any of the others yet; so large he has to suck his belly in and try to curve his back up, somehow simultaneously moving away from the deep dicking but also putting himself into a better position to allow the blunt head to nudge against his prostate.

His grip tightens around the cock in his hand, body shaking and exhausted. His intestines feel bloated with the cum already deposited inside him. He wonders, vaguely, whether his stomach is bulging with it; whether his daddies have filled him up enough to leave him with a little something to remember them by.

Maybe enough to slide his hand across his belly every now and then and remind himself how thoroughly they had fucked him.

Hanzo barely feels the cock in his grip pulse; the sticky cum coating his fingers and dripping down his arm before he is allowed to cower on all fours and let his head hang low, a low, continuous sound fucked out of him by the cock reaming his ass.

“Daddy… fuck… fuck me, please… oh god…”

“I am,” the man behind him grunts; he sounds dogged. Determined. His hands are gripping Hanzo’s hips tight enough to leave large, purplish bruises. The sharp edge of his fly is biting into the tender skin of Hanzo’s ass every now and then, making him almost squeak with the pain of it, toes curling hard enough to make his calves cramp.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you until you can’t sit for a week straight,” the guard promises him. He sounds indistinct - as if he were talking with his teeth gnashed together like a beast. Hanzo senses more than really feels him put one foot up next to his knee, getting better leverage to hump into him and make him feel the girth of his cock, finally slicked enough with the cum frothing out at the sides, getting pressed out from his cock with embarrassing squelching sounds. “Gonna fuck you good. Get you bred nice and deep with daddy cum. You want that, don’t you? Fucking slut begging everybody to be your goddamn daddy. Yeah - yeah, hold your ass open for me. That’s the ticket. That’s the fuckin-”

He chokes on his own spit, eyes nearly bulging as he comes, staring down to where Hanzo is gripping his cheeks hard, nails biting into the tender flesh as his cheek rubs against the floor. He’s spreading himself wide, making the burn a little more acute - a little more delicious as he listens to the filth pouring down on him, mouth open wide and just about visible beneath the wild tangle of his hair, gasping for breath, smears of cum still on his chin and along his jaw.

He looks like an absolute mess.

When the man behind him pulls out, slowly, huffing through his nose and eyebrows drawn together in intense focus, a thick dribble of cum follows behind before Hanzo can tense up enough to stop the flood.

His hole looks ruined - red and swollen; well-fucked and soft after hours of relentless reaming.

Nobody had thought of giving the Shimada heir a hand but there’s still a mess between his shaky knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	119. McCree/Hanzo Sounding

“You eh… hehehe…. you’re sure you wanna play like this? I mean - you’re not gettin’ anything out of this, are ya? If you just turn around a little I could give you a hand…”

Hanzo makes a soft, impatient sound, slanting a knowing, flat gaze up at McCree. “I get plenty out of this. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. And no - I need to concentrate. Now hush.”

Jesse bites his lip, fingers curling into the bedsheet, hips curling up into Hanzo’s slippery fist when he gives him a slow pump to keep his cock nice and hard.

“You need to concentrate?” he asks, voice climbing a little as he watches Hanzo lean over and inspect the carefully laid out instruments - steel rods of varying thickness spread out on a towel after a vigorous cleaning. “Hehe… I mean…”

Hanzo is sending him another look - this one almost murderous - and Jesse shuts up with a soft click of his teeth. He tries to keep calm but he can’t help the shimmying of his hips; trying to fuck up into Hanzo’s tight grip. He is stupidly excited about the feeling of the thin surgical glove Hanzo donned on the skin of his dick.

“Keep still,” Hanzo says sharply. He has picked out a rod - the thinnest of them all, slowly rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He looks from the thick, flushed cock in his fist up to Jesse’s face, his neatly trimmed beard not able to conceal the smirk. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, after all.”

Jesse chokes on his tongue, hips standing still immediately. He laughs nervously again - breathless and a little shrill as he watches Hanzo lean forward, a look of intense concentration on his face as he brings up the thin steel rod.

It looks manageable. Not like he would even feel it, if he were being honest - but the easy comment gets stuck in his throat when the very tip lands on his glans, sliding through the lube there and then inching over towards the slit.

He holds his breath, shaggy chin on his chest, staring down at his cock firmly in Hanzo’s hand, keeping him perfectly still as Hanzo starts working, letting gravity do it’s thing, carefully letting it slide down.

Jesse’s breath hitches, fingers holding the sheets in a death grip. His belly wants to heave in heavy breaths but instead he just sucks it in farther and farther because he can’t pull his hips back from the strange intrusion. His ass is glued to the space, not able to move his hips as the small hole gets stretched around the smooth metal of the rod, urethra burning and feeling full-

“Oh damn… oh… oh shit… Hanzo, I-” he babbles, knees fluttering open and closed until Hanzo growls at him to stop it.

His cock feels full. He feels like he might have to take a piss. He stares at the rod sliding deeper into his dick and the pressure in his balls becomes unbearable. He gets panicky when he wonders what would happen if he had to come and the way was blocked.

He wanted to tell Hanzo to pull out, to jerk him off, that he was just about to shoot and, and, and he couldn’t….

-but nothing was getting out. He was breathing harsh and fast, watching Hanzo lean back and look fucking smug, liquid dark eyes flicking up to his face and back to his cock again and again, watching his reaction as he starts rolling the thin rod between his fingertips, then moves his wrist, pulling out the steel and pushing it back in.

“It’s all the way in, Jesse,” he comments with a low voice. “I’m fucking your cock with it.”

“Oh… oh God,” Jesse whispers, eyes burning as much as his cock, nose running. He feels stupidly vulnerable, and Hanzo looks so satisfied.

“You’re going to let me do this to you again, won’t you? Let me stuff rods into your cock…”

“Damn… yeah… yeah, ok… God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	120. Reaper/Soldier76 Rimming

Jack had been staring the whole fucking day and the worst was - Gabriel knew it. There was no way he had not noticed his unsubtle Indiana farmboy staring - how he’d stopped everything he was doing the second he’d spied Gabriel walking into the gym, mouth dropping open, eyes taking in the tiny shorts and the tanktop that was clinging for dear fucking life, goddamn Gabriel did you not have anything more fitting?! around the sheer breadth of his torso.

As he’d walked over, casual and bumping fists with other recruits, the small shorts had started to move up - sliding into the creases of his thighs, showing off the meaty, scarred swell of them and further cupping his crotch in a frankly obscene fashion.

Jack found himself wondering whether he was even wearing underwear. Staring - and trying so hard not to stare - he could make out the outline of Gabriel’s dick. Christ.

“Yo,” Gabriel grunted as he’d stepped closer, bending to plop his water bottle next to the workout machine and giving Jack another view of those tiny shorts riding up into the crack of his ass; plump looking and still pure muscle.

By now, they were alone in the gym - and still, Jack had not been able to calm the fuck down. Every time he thought he’d found his equilibrium, another little thing caught his attention: the way Gabriel’s thighs slipped and slid against each other, sweaty and trembling in exertion, the strong muscles in stark relief - no thigh gap to be had with this one… the way his shirt became all but see-through, his dark brown nipples on full display, the thin, straining fabric cupping the swell of his pecs… even dipping into the shallow valley of his belly button.

How the fuck was it even still holding up.

Hell, even the dark, wetly curling hair beneath Gabriel’s arms had taken his rapt attention, only drawn over in the first place by Gabriel’s low grunts of strain as he pushed weights with his goddamn fucking legs. He’d just barely caught himself before starting off on fantasizing about him pushing his face against Gabriel’s ribs and inhaling deeply….

“You’re a thirsty boy today, Morrison.”

He jerked, head snapping over again, staring with owl-eyes at Gabriel absolutely preening on the machine, sitting with his arms up and behind his head, his sweaty body on display - revealing clothes straining to fit around him.

Even his shorts were soaked with sweat. Jack could see the outline of his dick’s head. He could see fucking everything and wasn’t even shocked anymore to realize that Gabriel actually had gone commando - he was too preoccupied fantasizing about sucking Reyes’ dick sweat through the fabric.

“Want a taste?”

Jack’s hands curl into helpless fists on his thighs and release again. His cock is already pitching a ridiculous tent in his own loose shorts.

He nods helplessly - because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

.o.

“Get in there. Yeah. That’s the ticket, farmboy.” 

Gabriel sounds smug and in charge and only the tiniest bit breathless. He’s kneeling carefully on the seat of the equipment, one finger hooked helpfully into the leg hole of his shorts, pulling it aside to give Jack access to the humid crack of his ass - and Jack fucking took that opportunity, burying himself deep enough to make Reyes grunt int surprise brace himself from the jostle.

He is drowning in Gabriel’s fat ass and thinks he will probably suffocate himself like an idiot because he doesn’t want to pull back and breathe.

His hands are on Gabriel’s thighs - those huge, unbelievable thighs - feeling them up; feeling them tense and get rock hard beneath his groping fingers.

His chin is nudging against the soft skin of the heavy, swinging balls that managed to slip out of the tight confines of the tiny shorts. Everything is hot and humid. Gabriel is laughing at him breathlessly; insulting him in rough sounding Spanish that he can’t understand but still makes his ears burn and his cock surge in his shorts.

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck me if you make this good, Morrison.” Gabriel sounds like he’s almost in tears from mirth. He’s angling backwards now, wide hips moving towards Jack, grinding his hole against his eager tongue.

Gabriel’s crack is wet with spit; his skin is silky and warm, the muscles of his ass buttery soft from Jack’s eager tonguing.

“You’d like that, asshole? Get your cock in my fat ass?”

Jack feels like an excited little goddamn dog. He makes an embarrassingly high whining sound and presses closer, hands trying - and hilariously failing - to get a good grip at the girth of Gabriel’s thick thighs. Gabriel howls with laughter, body shaking, grinding back more insistent.

“Yeah I know you want. Shit. You’re good at this, aren’t’cha? Ate a lot of ass out in the cornfields, farmboy?”

Jack wedges his hand between the strong thighs until Gabriel grunts and shifts his stance; one leg sliding off the equipment to brace himself on the floor and give Jack more room, his fumbling hand seeking and finding and cupping the heavy swell of his cock, wrist nudging against his swinging balls.

“That’s it. Fuck. If you can get me off on your tongue, you can fuck me, Morrison.”

No offer had ever sounded so good. So perfect. It gets him stupidly excited, the sheer thought of getting to wedge his dick between those hard, plump cheeks… of trying to fit into Gabriel’s ass, goddamn mounting him, legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his hips…

Fuck, it gets him going. Enough to… to…

Jack whines high in shocked desperation, hands scrabbling at his dick through his shorts, trying, trying-

and failing to do antyhing other than helplessly come in his underwear, cock spurting and flexing, abs clenching hard in an almost dizzying orgasm, his defeat only made worse by Reyes laughing at him while still grinding his ass against his face, demanding to be worshiped to the very end.

Jack clenches his eyes shut tight. They’re burning treacherously as he thinks about the chance he just lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	121. Hanzo/Genji Impotence

Hanzo’s cock when soft - and it was soft most of the time - was a perfect fit for Genji’s mouth. He loved peeking up at his brother’s red face; how he pressed the back of one hand against his mouth to stifle the little sounds he was making, the other hand grabbing Genji’s newly dyed hair.

Genji grins around the small mouth full, finger wriggling deep in Hanzo’s ass, feeling up the silky walls, pressing into them to feel their nice and soft give - and simultaneously press his knuckle into his brother’s sensitive rim.

Hanzo’s eyes close, chest heaving, swallowing down his needy groan as his prostate gets rounded again and again, Genji’s cheeky tongue dipping against the head of his cock, slipping beneath, pressing it almost painfully firm up against his hard palate.

After a moment of torturing him, he lets Hanzo’s soft cock slip out of his mouth, watching it flop wet and pink against his balls.

“G-Genji…”

“I’m not gonna continue if you’re playing dirty, Hanzo,” he murmurs, dipping his head low to tongue obscenely at the soft dick, pushing it around just to make Hanzo squirm in embarrassment. “I wanna hear you.”

He pulls out a bit, rubbing a second finger against his brother’s rim, then slowly pushing it in alongside the first one - making the sensitive hole stretch around both. Already, Hanzo’s eyes were rolling up, knees trembling to spread wider.

“You’re so sensitive, nii-chan,” Genji whispers, mouthing along the shaft of Hanzo’s cock, enjoying how he can’t even feel a twitch even though it has started to drool wet and messy pre-cum out of excitement.

He loved playing with his big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	122. McCree/Hanzo Cowcree

The ranch could not have been abandoned for too long. The buildings looked still sturdy and well maintained; there was no overgrowth to be seen yet. Hanzo estimated that the owners had been gone for a week - maybe two.

He hadn’t had this much luck on his travels yet. The large yard between farmhouse and stables felt eerie without any of the bustling activity that one might imagine going on in rural areas as this, but it wasn’t anything that would deter him from a good night’s sleep under a roof. Since banishing himself from his clan he had come to appreciate the simple comfort of a sheltered sleep and maybe a day or two of rest.

There was a sharp wind howling around him, and he could feel the first droplets of rain on his exposed shoulder before slipping his arm into the sleeve and pulling the garment up properly, foregoing easy reach of his arrows for warmth.

He was just about to turn towards the farmhouse and seek a way inside when he heard it under the din of the brewing storm: a deep, helpless braying that made him stop and reconsider. He was eying up the dark stables when it sounded again. A little louder and more desperate. Desolate.

Had one of the hapless animals been left behind?

Hanzo hesitates, shoulders pulling up minimally against the sharp bite of the wind, then makes up his mind. He’s been out alone in the streets long enough by now to know how much a little kindness can go.

As he makes his way towards the pitch black building, head ducked against the rain getting stronger, he reassesses his earlier estimate of the estates abandonment. He doesn’t think an animal could have survived two weeks without anybody to look after it. He also wonders what actions had led the owners to flee so hastily that they would have forgotten one of their darlings.

He slips his lantern off of his belt as soon as he is beneath the short roof, eyebrows drawn together as he lights it carefully, lifting it high so the flickering light can reach as many corners as possible as he makes his way inside, one hand on his bow - just in case.

The stables still smell alive: of warm bodies and dung. In here, the howling of the wind isn’t as loud as it has been a moment ago, and the pattering of the rain seems more romantic than threatening.

He also can hear the rustling of dry hay and straw better - as well as the low huffing of another creature that leads him farther down the corridor, past abandoned bays on one side and strange machinery on the other.

He doesn’t hide his steps but they are still soft enough that the creature doesn’t hear him until the very last second - which is when it brays again, unhappy and loud enough to make Hanzo wince and get his ears ringing.

“Easy now,” he murmurs. He feels unfit to give comfort - it is not in his nature; but it is easier to give to animals all the same.

He carefully places the lantern on the corner of the box to have his hands free and better assess the situation.

Someone has bound the creature to a stake in the corner and as far as he can tell he’s been struggling for a while now: there are deep gorges in the soil underneath and his hands are bloody. As Hanzo watches, he tries to turn around to get a look at him, but the harness around his head is damnably stable and he doesn’t have the understanding in his dilemma to make a step forwards and give himself more slack in the rope tethering him.

His spotted, large ears are flicking, the long, thin tail lashing like a whip. He’s a pretty boy in Hanzo’s opinion. He doesn’t have a lot of knowledge of cattle but the cow seems sturdy and healthy. A gorgeous animal if it weren’t for the bloody wounds he inflicted upon himself in his desperation.

“There, there. I’m going to help you,” he murmurs, taking another cursory glance around and carefully setting his bow and quiver to the side. It wouldn’t do for the animal to accidentally break any of his equipment.

He stops struggling when Hanzo comes closer, large brown eyes watching him as the archer carefully hunkers down and studies the rope and the harness around the creature’s head. His cheeks are bloody from the leather straps and the corners of his mouth look infected from the bit but he doesn’t seem worse for wear.

“There you go.” Hanzo reaches for him, fingers brushing through the shaggy beard and then up into the unruly mop of hair to rub between the small horns and then the large, flicking ears. The animal huffs, eyes immediately going heavy lidded as he lowers his head for more petting. “That’s it. I’m going to free you and you are going to stay nice and still.”

As he speaks, his gaze wanders down. There’s a thick leather band with a name plaque around the cow’s throat. From it, a golden little bell dangles that chimes lovely with his every moves.

“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo reads and smirks when one of the floppy ears flicks at the name. “Good boy, Jesse.”

He talks to the cow as if he were a dog but nobody is here to witness his idiocy anyway. Jesse doesn’t seem to mind. He brays again - this time closer to a deep moo than an actual cry - and shifts, turning with the sturdy, wide hips to the side, eyes fixed on Hanzo’s face with a new kind of helplessness. It only takes a moment for the archer to understand what the animal was trying to show him: his udders were looking painfully swollen, squished beneath trembling, impressive biceps.

As he watches, a tiny dribble collects at the dark, puffy tip of one teat and drops down into the hay.

“Oh,” Hanzo murmurs, eyes riveted by the sight - thinking of the machinery outside… milking machines…- and can’t help but just stare as Jesse moos again, a pained tinge to the sound that seemed to have nothing to do with his bloody fingers and the pain of the harness tethering him to the stake.

“They really did forget you, didn’t they? Poor thing. I can… I mean - I can try to help you.” He reaches out for him as he speaks, a low inane murmur that would set his teeth on edge had he realized what he was doing.

The cow holds still, tipping his chin up, obviously anticipating Hanzo to help him with a kind of desperate affection. His tail is flicking left to right like a pendulum, the dark brown tuft on its end swishing through the straw in the box, adding a soft rustling to the rain drumming against the roof and the wind howling outside.

Hanzo had no idea what he was supposed to do. He would not have thought the sight of those swollen, milk-filled teats would hit him the way they did.

The cow was surprisingly hairy; a good fleece of fur across his pecs - his udders, Hanzo thought with a wave of heat lapping through him - and warming up the soft, generous valley of his stomach.

As Hanzo’s gaze was pulled down towards it, he couldn’t help but notice what else the animal had more than enough of - his mouth becoming so very dry as he stares at the cow’s cock, hanging big and soft between strong, thick thighs.

Heat crawls up his throat and settles pounding and embarrassing in the very tips of his ears. He tries not to stare, but now that he’s seen it swing heavy and tantalizing with the fidgeting movements of the cow, he can’t stop noticing it; how the thick head is perfectly outlined underneath the foreskin. How thick the shaft is.

His hole clenches in sudden, primal want and he feels sick - and stupidly excited - for even considering this.

Hanzo has to swallow a few times to stop his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth, then wrenches his gaze away to look back at the problem at hand; Jesse holding perfectly still, practically vibrating on the spot as he waits for Hanzo’s outstretched hand to make contact, to soothe, to help.

The poor, stupid animal doesn’t know that Hanzo had no idea what to do.

The skin is almost feverishly hot to the touch and painfully taut. Jesse makes a sound half bray half whine as Hanzo carefully touches the swell of his udder and then slides farther down with the tips of two fingers, his hand stupidly shaking as he inches towards the swollen, dark mound of his teat.

It, too, is damnably hot to the touch but the skin feels tender. Silky. Velvety as Hanzo carefully starts rounding it with a minimal amount of pressure. He can feel sweat prickling the back of his neck as he inches closer towards the straining, shivering animal, one hand coming up to brace himself against Jesse’s shoulder.

As he massages the dark areola, another dribble of milk emerges - only a few drops that Hanzo gathers on the tips of his fingers and rubs into the taut surrounding skin.

Jesse’s mouth has fallen open around the bit, tongue almost lolling out underneath the weight of the metal. Those gentle brown eyes are unfocused as he waits for Hanzo to keep going and do something.

Hanzo lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and carefully, experimentally pinches the soft teat between his fingers, trying to squirt the milk out like this - and only managing to make Jesse tense up and bray again in dismay, his back rigid and his tail lashing once.

Quickly, Hanzo lets go, his cheeks hot with another flush - this time of a whole ‘nother kind of embarrassment.

Trying another tactic, he presses the heel of his hand against the swollen pec, pressing and pushing - trying to work the milk out like that. He doesn’t even get a droplet for his effort, only a cow that is more than unhappy with the proceedings, trying to turn away and flicking at him hard with the strong tail.

“Shh, shh,” he tries to soothe nervously, one hand holding the rope tethering Jesse to the stake, the other rubbing between his small, sturdy horns and the annoyed flick of his floppy ears. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s just that I don’t know how to work the machines-”

He stops and considers, staring into the bloody, unhappy face of the cow, heat pooling low in his gut as an idea starts to form.

.o.

It has been hard to coax Jesse to lay down on his side - the cow had not understood what he wanted of him for the longest time, throwing him strange, put-upon looks as he pushed insistently at the thick hip - but at last he was in the straw and let Hanzo push his arm to the side for better access.

They were both happy with the decision now that He finally could go to work, mouth wet and needy as he latches onto one brown, puffy nipple and soothes it with his tongue.

He thinks, blearily, that he had to learn how the machines outside worked. That he needed to see Jesse standing still as his teats got suckled by the mechanical suction cups.

He couldn’t deny that there definitely was something to say about this, though. He felt horribly filthy as he suckled on the animal’s teat, mouth greedy and nose buried against the taut swell of Jesse’s udder. He was suckling like a babe, relentless and strong, and the noises Jesse made were egging him on shamefully. Low, groaning sounds that had nothing to do with moos. They almost sounded human. His little bell was chiming sweet and innocent whenever he moved, his tail thumping strong into the straw behind him.

His bloody hands were up at his shoulders which he pulled slowly back the longer Hanzo fed on him. He was offering his chest up, Hanzo realized dimly. This hapless animal was letting itself get serviced by the shimada heir.

The first pulls of milk were almost sour - enough so to make Hanzo pull back and spit out the warm mouth full, face tight and disgusted - but it slowly improved; becoming sweet and creamy on his tongue until he had to make a conscious effort to breathe in sharp little bursts through his nose, throat bobbing with eager swallows as he filled his belly with the warm, fresh milk.

Jesse’s fur tickled at his nose and the corner of his mouth, and Hanzo loved every second of it as he pressed his tongue hard against the silky skin of the teat and coaxed more droplets out of it.

He eventually pulled back, the back of his hand wiping over the mess of his mouth, beard soaked with Jesse’s milk. He was just about to dip back down and try whether he’d get another feeding from the other side - when his gaze landed on Jesse’s erection, standing fat and sturdy from between his quivering thighs, the deliciously wide head that Hanzo had noticed earlier already pushed half out of the meaty foreskin. It was dark and glistening with pre-cum and so tasty looking Hanzo almost doubled over from the acute stab of want sizzling through his belly.

“Oh…” is all he says, dumbfounded, staring at Jesse’s flexing cock as milk drips from the apex of his goatee.

“Oh.” He says again when he slowly reaches for it - like he can not possibly help himself when presented with such a magnificent cock, no matter that it belongs to an animal; one which is lying with his head back, chewing slow and content at the bit.

Jesse is lax and satisfied and doesn’t look like he is even aware of the throbbing, thick shaft until Hanzo curls his hand around it, feeling embarrassingly excited when he can’t close his fingers around the girth of it.

“I guess I have to milk you everywhere, don’t I?” he whispers, voice rough and deep and belly craving that extra bit of cream.

The wind has calmed down outside but the rain is still going strong, but here in Jesse’s stable it is almost stiflingly hot. Hanzo feels sweat prick under his arms and roll down the dip of his spine. His thighs clench together as he leans over Jesse’s hairy belly and stares at the cock in his hand angling it up towards his swollen lips.

They feel tender after all the suckling. Almost a little raw. He wonders dimly how Jesse’s teats must feel after being painfully full for so long and then getting milked dry with uneducated, greedy pulls of a hungry mouth.

Hanzo feels embarrassed that he still isn’t sated. That even after he can feel his belly sloshing with Jesse’s warm, thick milk, he still craves more cream. More to fill him and keep him warmed through the night.

His tongue is the first to touch the fat tip, cushioning it almost lovingly before his upper lip drags slow and silky along the skin, then pushes up, making the foreskin roll back and expose Jesse’s glans.

He can vaguely sense the chubby belly underneath his bracing palm tensing, but his attention is on the cock slowly slipping further into his waiting, wet mouth, warm and still sweet from the cow’s milk.

Jesse moos softly. It sounds almost confused. Curious. Hanzo feels his cheeks burn and he clenches his eyes shut, pushing farther down, taking more of Jesse’s cock. He groans when the sheer girth stretches his lips and makes the corners of his mouth burn. He can’t remember the last time he’s been able to play with a dick this thick. This sturdy.

He holds it steady with one hand, helping himself to fuck his mouth onto Jesse’s cock, tasting the sharp, animalistic salt of pre-cum explode on his tongue. His belly clenches as he thinks about what he’s doing. How he’s sucking this dirty animal’s cock, licking it greedily deeper into his mouth until the wide head is nudging at his soft palate; threatening himself to let it slip farther down. Make himself choke on it.

Jesse’s hips flex once, strong thighs falling open wide, giving him all the access he could ever want.

He can hear the soft, melodic chime of Jesse’s bell as he pulls back up, slurping noisily, breathing hard through his nose.

The hand holding Jesse’s cock slips farther down, curling around his balls, the sac feeling as hot and swollen as his udders had felt earlier. How long has it been since Jesse had been able to shoot off?

Hanzo’s thumb presses into the soft, loose skin between the orbs, then rubs across them. Testing. Anticipating how filled they might be. How much Jesse’d be able to fill him yet.

There’s a thicker burst of pre-cum splashing on his tongue, nearly making him choke. It is also the only thing alerting him to Jesse’s sudden orgasm, his balls jerking in Hanzo’s slack grip, pulling up towards his body, pulsing in time with the cock in his mouth-

He is drooling in anticipation, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth in sheer want of Jesse’s cum. The tips of his ears are throbbing with blood, hot and shameful as he slurps and bobs his head and finally - finally - tastes the first rope of cum splashing against his tongue.

He slips farther down, throat open, waiting for more - letting Jesse shoot down his throat in thick, copious pulses.

When he finally pulls back, he can’t help but cough a little, throat burning, lips slick with spit and pre-cum.

He feels too hot and sticky. Too full. His belly is sloshing with what he’s drank down tonight and he is sleepy like a babe.

Jesse lies stretched out, teeth clinking slow and happy against the bit. He looks content; and why should he not?

Hanzo wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and only manages to make more of a mess, cum and milk sticky in his dark beard.

He decides not to untether Jesse from the stake yet. He doesn’t want him to wander out and get lost in the night.

He thinks the cow might need a new caretaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	123. McCree/Hanzo Pony Play

“That’s it. Nice and easy. Push your ass back - just like that. Yeah.”

Jesse’s voice is low and a little indistinct. His chin is on his chest, watching as Hanzo carefully, slowly shoves backwards, body taut as he balances on the stumps of his legs, elbows fluttering at his side uncertainly whenever he starts to wobble a little.

Jesse could hear the soft creaking of the leather whenever Hanzo’s hands balled into tighter fists and tried to move against the bindings holding them snug against his shoulders.

There was no give to be had. The leather sleeves were tight and unyielding, adding to a feeling of claustrophobia. If Hanzo fell, he would probably hurt himself, and the trepidation was making his muscles clench up until he was shivering as he carefully jutted his ass out, searching for the cock he’s thirsting for.

“I gotcha, darlin’. You’re not gonna fall.” Jesse curls the thin reins once more around his fist and watches as Hanzo’s head starts tilting back with the pull. “Can ya feel my cock yet? Why don’t you look for it, babydoll?”

Hanzo huffs. Jesse can see a slow flush creep down the breadth of his back. He is embarrassed, yet still his plump ass starts to wriggle carefully back and down, looking for the thick cock lying against the crease of McCree’s thigh.

Jesse watches a couple moments, amused as Hanzo willingly debases himself for him, then finally has mercy and lets go of one muscular thigh to grip his dick and stand it up for the archer. He breathes with an open mouth, eyes zeroed in on Hanzo’s wet, pouty hole.

Hanzo makes a weird high-pitched gurgling sound when he finally feels the broad, blunt tip nudge against the pliant muscle, stretching him open just enough to give him a taste.

“Sit down, boy. Gotta get into the saddle before you can ride, eh?”

Hanzo tries to let his head fall forward, intent on hiding his embarrassed face against his chest, but the reins are unrelenting and Jesse’s bicep tenses as he tugs against the pull, tongue rolling against the roof of his mouth in an easy, reprimanding click.

“None of that. No pulling. You go as fast as I let ya.”

His eyes trail from the brick red of the back of Hanzo’s neck down to his cock, the head just about nudged into his pony. He lets go of his cock, large hand wandering back onto Hanzo’s thigh, stabilizing him some more as Hanzo carefully sits himself down.

His movement is slow and controlled. Jesse can watch how his muscles spread around his dick, hole pouting outwards, slick and buttery soft around the straining cock.

When he finally sits on McCree’s hip, the only thing to be heard is his soft huffing and the clinking of metal as Hanzo chews on his bit.

Jesse leans to the side, looking around his pony’s hip to take in the picture he made through the large mirror. 

Hanzo’s chest was pushed out, nipples puffy looking, pecs straining with his tense muscles. His tongue is working against the underside of the bit, the corners of his mouth pulled back with it, making him drool into his beard.

His eyes look almost feverish, yet he still is far too put together for Jesse’s tastes.

The cowboy grins, feet shuffling farther apart, planting them more firmly on the ground. Hanzo makes a choked sound as that forces his stumps apart as well, almost making him topple over if not for the wide palm on his thigh and the pull against his bridle.

“Gonna have fun now, babydoll,” he drawls. Hanzo’s head swivels around as if he’s startled. He tries to look at Jesse but the blinders prevent him from doing so. He can’t see the sharp grin on Jesse’s face.

.o.

Jesse’s jaw aches with the clench of his teeth. He grunts with the effort of another sharp thrust upwards that has Hanzo cry out and wriggle on top of him, bound arms jerking with the fear of falling until he can manage to settle himself back down.

At this point, the smallest things are threatening to unseat Hanzo. His back is bowed at a painful - and beautiful - looking angle, his elbows helplessly jerking whenever he bounces on Jesse’s cock, plush ass pressed against the heaving swell of the cowboy’s belly.

His strong, amputated legs are clamped around Jesse’s thighs, yet all that is holding him is McCree’s rough grip on his leg and the unyielding pull of the reins, forcing his head back and keeping him upright as Jesse fucked him from below in powerful, rattling thrusts that had Hanzo’s teeth clack loudly onto the bit and Jesse blink sweat from his eyes.

His chest is heaving, hips feeling hot and achy from the exertion of fucking up into the never satisfied clutch of Hanzo’s body. His hole was as greedy as it had been from the start; soft and suckling, cushioning Jesse’s cock and rippling sweetly along the length every now and then, keeping Jesse at bay as much as he was literally reining the archer in.

As he pulls in heaving gasps of air, Hanzo becomes restless on top. Cheeky. He grinds down and bounces impatiently, trying to goad him into fucking him some more and making him take the thick girth of his cock.

“Hey now,” he rumbles, fingers curling farther in and making the reins pull tighter just to watch Hanzo’s thick neck strain as he stems against the force so he wouldn’t topple backwards this time. “If ya wanna get dicked so badly, you should just work for it yerself.”

There’s a startled silence that makes Jesse grin as he settles himself more comfortably. “Yeah. I think I got this all wrong. I think I spoiled ya a tad too much. Ye’re my sweet pony, after all. You are supposed to work. So…” He rolls his tongue again, clicking encouragingly as he pinches Hanzo’s thigh. “Work, pony.”

He can see Hanzo’s reflection in the mirror - the high blush on his cheeks looking like it would taste delicious - his dark eyes staring at Jesse’s knees, eyebrows drawn together. He looks like he’s contemplating his options and Jesse wonders what options Hanzo even thinks he has.

It doesn’t take long until he finally caves, his sheer need for dick far outweighing the laziness Jesse had fucked into him the past half hour.

He is moving slow and clumsy, his little bound arms wiggling as he moves, the large muscles beneath Jesse’s gripping hand shivering when his thighs work and push him up.

Oh yeah. That was far better. Like this, he could lie back and enjoy the ride, watching how the girth of his cock was smoothly taken in and welcomed in the warm body again and again.

“Faster,” he commands and clicks again with his tongue - but Hanzo whines, high and almost simpering; looking for pity as he makes his body slump a little. Jesse is delighted with this new stubbornness; how the princely attitude doesn’t leave the archer even when he’s playing at being a pony.

Jesse looks around for something suitable within reach, but in the end he hadn’t thought that far ahead and needs to use his hand as a makeshift riding crop, slapping Hanzo’s ass once and sharp. “Faster!” he demands again, voice a bark, yet his amusement still thick.

“AH!” Hanzo cries out, whole body jerking in a funny little bunny hop, ass clenching down hard enough to make Jesse grit his teeth.

“Come now! Don’t be lazy, babydoll.”

Another sharp slap finally does the trick: Hanzo starts moving, plush ass bouncing in hypnotizing jiggles as he grinds down and lifts up minimally, fucking himself on just an inch of Jesse’s cock because the poor dear was so exhausted from lying back and taking it - though Jesse wasn’t mean enough to point that out to him.

“Jethe… Jethe,” he lisps, barely able to get anything past the bit pressing down against the back of his tongue. When McCree rolls his head to gaze into the mirror, Hanzo’s short, slim cock is standing at perfect attention, bouncing between his short thighs and oozing pre-cum everywhere. He is making a mess everywhere and Jesse gets hot and bothered just thinking about making him lick it up later; crawling on his bound extremities and debasing himself further for his amusement.

“Jethe, pleathe,” he whines, and Jesse slaps his ass again, bicep bunching as he pulls on the reins sharply, making Hanzo scramble for purchase once more.

His eyes are open wide as he gets pulled back onto Jesse’s cock, made to take all of it, body shivering and poised at the very edges of orgasm. As Jesse watches his face he slaps him again, just to see how Hanzo’s tongue starts lolling out, drool slipping messily into his beard.

“Ya want a treat, babydoll?” Jesse purrs, cock flexing within the silky, tight confines of Hanzo’s body. “Yeah, ya want a treat. Keep at it, hun. Keep fucking yourself on this big, tasty cock and it might just reward ya with a nice load. Get your belly full ‘n warm. Ya want that, right?”

And Hanzo - sweet, sweet Hanzo - whinnies for him as he tries to force his burning muscles into working for that special treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	124. McCree/Hanzo Small Dick

Hanzo makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. It sounds disgusted, and Jesse’s fingers curl into the bedding in response. The archer’s dark eyes flick to the movement, then up to McCree’s dully flushed face.

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells him, voice clipped. He sounds prim even though he’s crouching on the floor between McCree’s legs. “You are so loud-mouthed, I thought…” he is almost muttering at this point, dark eyes trailing back down to the gunslinger’s cock. Jesse’s toes curl in his boots. His wide chest spasms painfully as the breath stutters out of him.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice scratchy. Eager. His dark eyes are large and wet and hopeful. “Yeah?”

Hanzo’s fingers squeeze a little tighter around his cock, then loosen again. His hand is broad, covering the sturdy length of Jesse’s shaft - only the flared, blunt tip is peeking out of the fist, and already it is shiny, a little dribble of pre-cum oozing from the slit as the silence stretches and Jesse’s rattling, excited breathing is too loud in the room.

The archer hesitates, fingertips idly dragging along the silky, hot skin; he turns his head minimally to the side, watching Jesse from beneath heavy lids out of the corner of his eyes.

“One would have thought you would be able to put your money where your mouth is… as you Americans would say.”

He squeezes again, and when all he gets is a low, eager groan, he doesn’t hide the feigned moue of distaste thinning his lips as he watches a drop of pre-cum roll down the glans and wetting the edge of his hand.

It only seems to get McCree hotter, his knees jerking apart in a spastic motion that gets his ridiculous belt buckle to clank noisily against the bedframe. His feet are restless, the spurs on his boots as loud as the rest of the boisterous person.

Hanzo lets him jerk and fidget while the excitement brews warm and prickly in his belly. He hadn’t anticipated enjoying this as much as he does.

“Maybe it was to be expected,” he continues, voice still crisp and deep; sounding unaffected from the proceedings and the dishevelment of the other man. “There is a saying about overcompensation, is there not? And you are so very loud.” He glances at the ridiculous cowboy boots; the useless spurs jangling at their heels. He holds McCree’s cock in a death grip and feels his pulse thrumming rabbit fast against the heel of his hand. “So very… eager to get noticed by everybody.”

McCree’s chin is on his chest, his shaggy beard moving with his open-mouthed pants. He looks like he is already seconds from coming and Hanzo is fascinated. They hadn’t been at it for more than a handful of minutes.

“Don’t tell me this is all?” He almost barks it, startling McCree into jerking his hips up, trying - and failing - to fuck into Hanzo’s fist. He couldn’t fuck where there was no slack to buck into. “You’re already so close?”

He finally moves his hand; a slow - torturously slow - motion of his wrist, pushing up a couple of centimeters to cup the tip of McCree’s short, sturdy cock, gathering the copious pre-cum drooling from the slit, then pushing back down. He waits for McCree to sigh softly, then opens his slick fist and wipes it against the unkempt bush of his pubes.

McCree grunts in surprised dismay, head coming up from where he let it fall back. He stares at Hanzo who is still hunkering between his thighs and looking at his cock like it was an interesting specimen.

It was a pretty dick, after all; short and fat. Good looking despite its lack.

Hanzo lets one hand drop out of sight non-chalantly; presses the heel against his own cock. McCree didn’t need to know how hot the sight made him. How much he wanted to suck that surprisingly short cock into his mouth and savor the salty pre-cum. Maybe - maybe - let McCree hump across his tongue until he shot his load.

(Hanzo’s belly clenches when he thinks about how McCree would need to grunt fuck him - would really need to work for it - if he wanted to try and throatfuck him.)

“Wha’ issit?” McCree is slurring. Whiney like a schoolboy. Like he deserves himself a treat for having the shortest dick Hanzo had yet met. Jesse reaches for his cock to jerk himself but Hanzo’s free hand shoots forward to stay him before he can play - yet not before Hanzo sees how huge McCree’s mechanical hand looks next to his cock.

He already thinks about a next time - making McCree jerk off for him. Commenting on how McCree was able to engulf his own cock fully in his fist…

“You lured me in here with false promises, McCree.”

“…Wha?” McCree’s eyes look feverish, his cheeks a brick red. He’s chuffing like an old engine and as they both stare, his short cock flexes out another string of pre-cum which slides down the stout, fat shaft and mattes his pubes.

Hanzo presses his hand almost painfully against his own cock. He can feel it wet into his underwear, and a shudder runs down his back.

“You promised me a nice cock to suck. You said you’d be able to fuck me raw…” And yes he would be able to. Hanzo could already imagine it: the juicy width spreading him open, making him accommodate McCree’s girth… but that was not the point. The point was-

“I think you should apologize, don’t you? And maybe, if you do it well enough, I’ll jerk your pitiful cock off at least.”

McCree’s broad hips shimmy from side to side, his cock swaying where it stands rigidly in the air. He sounds hoarse when he croaks: “‘M sorry.”

Hanzo pushes a hand underneath the sash holding his pants up. It only needs minimal fumbling to curl his fingers around his own cock. Everything is warm and tacky in his underwear. He bites the tip of his tongue for a second to get himself back under control and make his voice not tremble as much.

“What are you sorry for?”

McCree’s face falls for a moment. He looks clueless. Helpless. His beard his shivering with the sharp breaths he’s taking, eyes flicking from Hanzo’s cool, unimpressed - flushed - face to his cock and back again.

When he understands finally, he looks almost like he is about to cry. Hanzo hesitates - suddenly unsure whether he had gone too far. Before he can backpaddle, McCree rasps: “‘M sorry for having such a short dick.”

It’s jerking as he says it; his balls drawing up tight and sudden, Jesse’s voice getting high and urgent. “‘M sorry for - please, I … please??”

Hanzo groans through his nose as he falls forward, mouth open and wet and greedy. The first splash of cum hits his tongue even before he got his lips around McCree’s cock.

He wonders how sensitive McCree is that a little dirty talk can get him so hot. He wonders if he’s always like that. He wonders if he’s ever even been able to play like this - or if this is years of pent up frustration.

Suddenly, Hanzo wonders a lot of things about the cowboy as he drinks down his thick, creamy cum and listens to McCree groan his way through his orgasm - all the while clutching his own cock, and forgetting to jerk off in the face of this unexpected, delightful development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	125. Hanzo/Reinhardt Small Dick

Hanzo was so very easy. Not only on the eyes but also - especially, even - to rile up.

“Look at it,” Reinhardt coos against the archer’s puffy lips, letting him press feverish kisses against the corner of his mouth as he talks. Hanzo’s hips jerk.

“It looks so cute… just look at it.” 

Hanzo groans, eyes clenched tightly shut. He stops with the messy, wet kisses and pushes his hot face into the vulnerable space beneath Reinhardt’s chin.

Reinhardt grins and lets him for a second or two, before he cups the back of his neck with one large hand and pulls him back.

“Look at it,” he demands, voice gentle yet insistent. They’re both red-faced; flushed in excitement and embarrassment as Hanzo dutifully dips his chin low and peeks between their bodies; his cock pressed against Reinhardt looks ridiculously small. Almost boyish.

He groans low and throaty. As they watch, it flexes eagerly, a string of pre-cum dangling from the tip.

“So cute,” Reinhardt purrs, one large finger stroking along the shaft and to the flushed, blunt tip of it. Hanzo gurgles something unintelligible, hips jerking back from the light contact.

Yes - the archer was so very easy. Always on such a hair trigger - always so ready to come at the slightest provocation, no matter how often Reinhardt played with him.

“How do you want to do this?” Reinhardt murmurs, still holding Hanzo like a kitten, forcing him to look at their cocks so close together, the other arm lifting to shove behind his head. He is stretched out and lazy - a lion that is more than willing to let the other one play.

“I want to…” Hanzo licks his lips. His dark eyes locked on the sight between their bodies. He moves, knee-walks just a little further up until he can watch his tip next to Reinhardt’s. How humiliatingly small it looked next to it. “I want to fuck you.”

Reinhardt perks up, grin stretching imperceptibly.

“Oh you want that, don’t you? You want to fuck me with your sweet little cock, Schätzchen?” Hanzo looks almost weepy as he nods, eyes suspiciously wet and mouth set in a stern, straight line. His cock jerks and drools another line of pre-cum that connects their dicks for a moment before it snaps.

“You think you can make me feel it?” he rasps, voice going a little darker - a bit mean as he lets go of Hanzo to reach down and covers the small cock with his huge hand. “Think you can make me feel your cute little cocklett?”

Hanzo hiccups out a sob, hiding his face behind one arm, his ears hot and burning. Oh how the Shimada heir loves being ridiculed like this. Loves and hates it.

Reinhardt rolls his hips up, making Hanzo scrabble to steady himself with palms against the broad barrel chest, fingers digging into the hair there. He’s staring at Reinhardt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“We can do that. Oh, we can do that.”

.o.

Reinhardt can’t help the indulgent grin - not with Hanzo hugging his thigh towards him with both arms curled around it, eyes scrunched shut in concentration as he so obviously tries not to come too fast.

He looks sweet - so desperate as he fucks with quick, uneducated jerks of his hips, Rabbit fucking into the warm, silky space Reinhardt gave over to him more than generously.

He’d sat there with a glassy gaze as he’d watched Reinhardt prepare himself, one hand around his cock, nearly strangling it and trying not to come before he hadn’t had a taste of it.

“So good,” Reinhardt rasps, belly clenched tight, cock smearing the wet tip lazily against the bed sheets. “I love your sweet little cock. Feels so good…”

He clenches down around it in emphasis an Hanzo’s eyes snap open, staring at him in blank panic as his hips stutter to a halt for a moment, grinding in deep - as deep as he could.

“Don’t do that!” he croaks, voice rough and high and a little whiny.

Reinhardt smiles indulgently, his cheeks feeling about as hot as Hanzo’s face looks.

Hanzo turns his head, hiding himself against Reinhardt’s knee as he starts fucking again; first slow, little bucks into the clenching heat, then sharper, faster nudges as he regains his momentum.

Reinhardt closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, breathing studiously deep and slow, concentrating on the fucking.

He loved how desperate Hanzo got. How he humped like an animal, fucking quick and needy into Reinhardt because he loved to see how swollen he got him afterwards when he inspected his work; greedy mouth licking his own cum out of his large lover.

Reinhardt sighs, hand inching over to loosely jerk himself as Hanzo rabbit fucks him fast and needy with that cute cock Reinhardt was so in love with. 

God, but he tried so hard to give it to him good and proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	126. McCree/Reinhardt Slavery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe slave Reinhardt is sold to either a) unruly Deadlock outlaws looking to lasso a big boy or b) the Shimada clan. I kind of favor the first, if only for the goofy accents and possibility of them razzing young McCree into his first sexual experience so tied up Reinhardt kind of has to coax and comfort him through it while being thoroughly covered in roughneck semen. Americans are so exuberant and rude, Cyber!

The first time Reinhardt had ‘met’ McCree had been his very first night at his new home, bend over the saddle of a large, dusty motorcycle and getting his hole spread on a thick cock that made him suck in his belly from the sudden burn of it, and yet cant out his ass for more.

“Yo, McCree! You’re just right. Lookit what we found.”

Reinhardt swings his head around and peeks above the swell of one bicep towards the entrance where one of his new masters has slung his arm jovially around the shoulders of another member of their gang - the kid looking like he is not older than 16 or 17.

His eyes are shining bright beneath the wide brim of his head, mouth hanging open just a little; soft and inviting. Reinhardt thought he might be staring at the gleaming slave collar around his throat - his pride and joy; he kept it meticulously clean - but it was impossible to tell for sure.

“Ever seen anything like it?”

“Uh…” the kid - McCree - says and lets himself get pulled closer towards the action, his big hands hanging lax at his sides. There’s a large revolver around his coltish, slim hips but he looks just young and vulnerable as he stares, watching as the other man fucks Reinhardt in unhurried slow strokes, ignoring the other two members of the gang.

He has his hands on Reinhardt’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart to watch himself disappear.

“Pretty furry,” he’s mumbling and thumbing through the crisp hair surrounding his dick. “Can hardly see a thing. Gonna have to shave ya.”

Reinhardt doesn’t say anything. He lets his head hang back down, sweat gathering on his brow. He can’t focus on the kid when he’s getting fucked and has to take care not to topple the machine over.

Still, he arches his back a little more, ass pushing up obediently into the leisurely thrusts just to make up for the other issue.

“Eh? Ever seen somethin’ like it?” the other man repeats. He sounds cautiously giddy. Like he is trying really hard not to laugh.

“No…”

“The slave or the fuckin’?” Another man roars from the other side of the bay now, and promptly the area erupts into bawdy laughter.

Reinhardt can’t hear the reply - or if there is any. The warmth from the fucking is starting to spread out into his extremities and tingling in his toes. His cock feels stupidly tender and eager. It’s been a while since he’s been fucked last, and even longer since he was given release. He bites the tip of his tongue first and then, when it doesn’t help, sinks teeth into his own biceps as the man behind him picks up speed and starts to rail him.

“Eh? You mean the slave or the fuckin’?” the first man wants to know now.

“I’ve never seen a slave that big,” McCree finally says. He takes the laughter in good stride, his cheeks cherry red and his slacks when Reinhardt glances over, tented over his eager, young cock.

It’s only a half-truth - everybody knows it, but they slap his back and let him flee anyway.

Reinhardt wonders how long it’ll take until the kid will come to him.

.o.

McCree likes to hover around awkwardly when Reinhardt gets fucked. He rarely is there when it starts but somehow, without a fail, migrates into whichever room the slave is getting dicked.

Reinhardt is a good boy - he’s old enough to have stopped being a rebellious shithead - and his collar is good as obsolete for punishments but his new masters like to shock him even so.

Sometimes they make him hold the little remote between his teeth as he’s getting fucked because they like it when his eyes are wide in trepidation and his body shakes in fear as he tries not to bite down too hard as to not shock himself - made all the harder by thick cocks relentlessly pressing against his prostate.

Reinhardt isn’t always in a state to actively notice his surroundings after his masters are done having fun with him, but whenever he’ll look around, he’ll see the kid standing to the side, cheeks brick red and eyes eager and shiny.

“He’s from Germany, McCree,” one or the other would call over every now and then, fucking into the slave with single minded intent and tugging mean and sharp at his chest hair. “They know how to train a proper slave over there, let me tell you. Fuck. Can take a cock any day of the week like a goddamn fuckin’ champ.”

.o.

It’s not entirely of his own will when McCree finally fucks him. He gets ribbed and teased and outright bullied into it by the other members of the gang, but in Reinhardt’s opinion he doesn’t look too put upon by it - in fact, he looks downright eager, if kind of scared shitless.

His hips are quick and nervous, pumping even before Reinhardt’s large fingers have started peeling his young, sleek cock out of his underwear. The fabric feels warm and tacky against his fingertips. Aaah, the eagerness of youth.

“Shhh,” Reinhardt rumbles, an easy grin on his face. He’s stretched out on a billiard table, massive thighs dwarfing the slim hips of the tall kid. McCree is still wearing his hat. It’s sitting askew on his head, the string loose around his throat. It only takes Reinhardt to close lovingly close his fingers around his young master’s cock to get him to jack-knife forward and his hat to tumble down, hanging between his shoulder blades, the chord tight but not restricting around his throat.

The crew around them snickers but Reinhardt thinks McCree doesn’t even hear them anymore. His gaze looks feverish and intent, his hands skimming nervously across the thick ridges of muscle on the slave’s belly, up into the thick chest hair. He palms Reinhardt’s pecs like they’re the tits of a lady and the slave squeezes his leaking cock with fondness, fingertips sliding farther down to the soft sac beneath.

The kid is a sweet one, still. Romantic.

Even so, he is curious - fingertips sliding beneath the metal of Reinhardt’s slave collar. Testing the give and feel of it. He looks once into Reinhardt’s face - a short, shy little glance before he stares down and takes his cock into his hands.

“Need both hands, eh, boy? He’s a big one,” one of the onlookers calls, and McCree - he just nods, earnest and focused on his fists and the way he squeezes the slave’s large, heavy dick in them.

Yes… this one was still sweet.

Reinhardt rumbles low. Lets him know that he appreciates the effort even as he coaxes him closer with the grip he has on the young master’s cock.

McCree, when his dick sniffs its first, willing body - warm and soft and eager to accept - lurches forward. His hands let go of Reinhardt’s cock and it slaps heavy and a little painful against his abs as McCree clamps shivering fingers around his sturdy hips.

His head hangs low, back bowing until his forehead nearly touches Reinhardt’s chest.

He can feel that pretty, young cock inside him; flexing eagerly. Pulsing against the velvety tight grip of his rim.

McCree’s voice has become high and almost whiny. He’s already a second from coming and everybody knows - the others around are laughing and slapping their thighs. (The kid jerks suddenly and Reinhardt thinks someone must have slapped his ass as well.)

Reinhardt is cooing low and soothing, large hands rubbing up and down McCree’s arms. He feels strangely fond of the young man, and holds obediently still; tries to allow him to calm down enough to fuck him at least a little.

“You feel so good,” he purrs in a low rumble, large hands holding McCree’s hips, fingers kneading into the lean, small ass. The kid was too thin - there wasn’t much nutrition to be had within the gang. “Good boy…”

McCree makes a strangled sound at that, head snapping up and staring at the slave with an intention that makes Reinhardt shudder hard enough to clench down on the sleek, eager cock.

He is surprised when McCree does move, after all, fingers digging into the slave’s skin as he starts to work his hips in sharp, piston like movements that make Reinhardt see stars as his prostate gets rubbed almost brutishly.

He wonders how often McCree has fantasized about this very moment: of fucking the big, good natured slave within an inch of his life. Leave the large man a shivering, jerking mess on the table, fucked out and useless.

McCree would not manage it today - but Reinhardt could only shudder helplessly thinking about the future to come now that the dam was broken and McCree would have the guts to fuck him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	127. McCree/Hanzo

Hanzo squeezed just beneath the head and McCree kicked out like a horse, spurs jangling loud and obnoxiously. Immediately, Hanzo’s fingers tightened painfully on the wavy hair on the nape of his neck and pulled his head away from his shoulder like an unruly puppy.

“Silence,” he admonishes. His face is impassive. Cool. Collected. There is no hair out of line in his neatly trimmed goatee and when Jesse wants to fall forward and wipe his wet mouth against the black, sharp line, he tightens his grip slightly more and shakes him just for good measure.

“Behave.”

Jesse’s mouth is open, his bionic hand clawed in Hanzo’s wide sleeve because he isn’t allowed to grip his arm and give him bruises.

“Darlin’, he pants, and grimaces when Hanzo swipes a thumb across the blunt head of his cock, trimmed fingernail pressing carefully against the weeping slit. “Darlin’. Sweetheart, Babydoll.”

He chants it like a prayer, hips trying to strain up but the immediate loosening of Hanzo’s slick fist - as if he loses interest in the proceedings the second Jesse tries to wrestle control from him - has the cowboy sitting back down on his ass real quick.

He whines high in his throat. Canine. Needy. His cock flexes in Hanzo’s grip, a dollop of salty liquid getting swiped up and smeared across the thin, hot skin in a practiced move.

Jesse’s mouth falls open. His pits are itching with sweat, shirt sticking to his chest. Hanzo hasn’t let him get out of his clothes other than pushing his shirt up and slacks far enough down to get at his cock.

“Sweetheart, Darlin’, please, I… ahh.. hah…”

He moves his knees timidly at Hanzo’s sides and freezes when the movement makes his spurs jingle again. He glances in dog like submission at the archer and catches just about the tiny, satisfied smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth before he is pushed forward with the bossy grip on his neck, his forehead pressed against Hanzo’s tattooed shoulder.

The archer jerks him off slow and patient, face plain, almost bored - and it drives Jesse wild. He’s huffing and groaning like a beast, clutching Hanzo to himself as much as he is allowed.

“Damn,” he whispers, the nervous fight bleeding out of him; body and mind accepting that he is not going to be leading this one - will just be getting whatever Hanzo wants to give.

It is a little easier, then; to just pant warm and wet against Hanzo’s chest, and let the feeling of his rough, sometimes mean hand wash over him and drive him insane.

Hanzo doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes him a little tighter in praise, the slick tunnel of his hand getting that much more addicting, the blunt fingernails of the other hand scratching his neck minimally.

Jesse nearly starts thumping his heel at the ground in pleasure.

“Dog,” Hanzo says, amused like he can hear Jesse’s thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	128. Reaper/Soldier76 Virgin

Gabriel is putting such an effort into keeping quiet - finger moving slow and silky inside his desperately clutching hole, trying not to make it do these embarrassing squelching sounds he’s heard whenever he was watching porn - he can actually hear the rasp of Morrison’s facial hair when he drags one broad hand across his mouth.

“Dang. I mean - I can help you out?” Morrison’s voice cracks on the last word. He sounds stupidly boyish and Gabriel can just imagine his painfully blue eyes fixed on his ass, watching him do… it.

Gabriel clenches his eyes shut and turns his head to press his face into the crook of his arm. His mouth is open to drag in enough air and still he feels like there’s just not enough oxygen in the room.

“Sh-shut up, Morrison,” he rasps. It’s a weak comeback. Under normal circumstances he would have come up with something - anything - better than a weak pre-school retaliation, but his rim is clenching down on a single finger of his own and it feels weird and to make matters worse, goddamn Jack Goldenboy Morrison is sitting behind him on the bed and watching with rapt attention.

He can almost feel his gaze like a physical thing.

It is embarrassing.

Whenever he glances down his belly, past the heavy weight of his half-hard, confused dick, he can see him sitting there, watching, boxer briefs tenting and wet where the tip of his cock is trying so very hard to escape.

“I mean… it’s just an offer,” Jack says. He sounds strangled. Pained.

His face looks the part, too, when Gabriel turns his head enough to glance around himself. His lips are pressed into a severe line, thick eyebrows drawn in concentration. He almost looks like he does in their briefings - only that his cheeks were a deep red, hair tousled from wrestling off his shirt: the perfect, endearing farm boy.

As Gabriel watches, Jack finally reaches down and slips those big fingers underneath the elastic band of his shorts. A quick adjustment later has the tip of his cock out, only the very tip peeking out of the foreskin pink and wet, and probably getting the dark blond hair beneath his belly button tacky.

Gabriel quickly turns his head back around, wiping his wet mouth deliriously against his forearm as he starts up moving his finger again - slipping it into himself and feeling the silky walls of his insides.

It’s not uncomfortable - certainly not painful - yet he starts to wonder what the big deal is about.

“I could do that for you,” Jack offers again, voice shot. The bed dips as he moves a little closer. Before Gabriel can muster up anything to say, he feels a large hand closing around his wrist. Shocked, he lets him direct him: changing up his angle and telling him to crook his finger until his own knuckle is rubbing rudely into his silky, hot insides. Gabriel chokes on his spit when a little shiver of feeling darts up his spine, making him dip it down instinctively. Jack groans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck you got the best ass ever. Goddamn fat, gorgeous ass. I would’ve been honestly surprised if you weren’t sensitive as fuck down here.”

Gabriel’s head spins. His ears feel stupidly hot - as hot as the little muscle suckling eagerly at his finger. He clenches down and sweat springs up along his hairline when he hears Jack’s fierce mumble: “Yeah. So sensitive. Look at that sweet cunt you have. Gripping like a goddamn vice -”

“L-language,” he croaks, toes curling in sympathy with his finger as he tries to find that little spot again - that perfect little place that he had only graced with a glancing touch.

He wonders dimly if anybody knew how dirty Morrison’s mouth actually was. Perfect little farmboy swearing like a sailor the second he got excited; his single minded intent shutting off any filters.

Morrison doesn’t react to the admonishment - rather he lets go of Gabriel’s wrist in order to put both hands on his ass cheeks, gripping the generous muscle hard enough that it makes Gabriel grunt and rock forward, shoulders hunching up towards his ears when Jack’s palms slide down towards the backs of his thighs.

“I love your body,” he sighs. It sounds like a prayer and Gabriel doesn’t know what to do when Morrison’s hands slide reverently from his thighs back to his ass, gripping the swell of his hips and pushing up the curve into his waist just to feel the difference. He’s kneeling with a finger up his ass, trying - and failing - to find that sweet spot, his balls warm and heavy against the pulse point in his wrist, and Morrison is starting to worship him.

Gabriel jerks when he feels something bristly against the swell of his ass and it takes him looking hectically back to realize it’s Morrison’s cheek which he rubs against him like a cat.

“Could spend hours admiring your ass, Reyes. And your thighs. Holy shit. I think brass would’ve gotten rid of those ridiculous tiny gym shorts if you hadn’t enrolled. Heads turning just because they ride up your big, juicy thighs until nothing is left to the imagination…”

Gabriel closes his eyes. He has bitten into the flesh of his arm without realizing, the pain dull and throbbing and welcome.

When Morrison leans over and starts peppering kisses against the pouty rim of his hole, tongue darting out to drag wet and squirming around his stagnant finger, he doesn’t protest the hand anymore that closes around his wrist and gently tugs it away.

“You did so well,” Jack murmurs, “but I’ll show you how it’s done, hm? Pretty little virgin was squirming so nicely for me, but -”

He interrupts himself before Gabriel can turn around and smack him in the head for his stupid babbling, toes curling and belly feeling tight from how Jack was talking about him. To him. He couldn’t even tell whether he liked it or not. Christ, he is a mess.

Jack is, despite his crooning, gentle words, anything but. Gabriel cries out, back arching down and ass involuntarily lifting into the abuse when two broad fingers push in, barely slicked with spit and rubbing greedily at his hot insides.

His hands are fisted into the sheets, shoulders drawn up high and hips indecisive after that first initial shock from the push - jittery as they hunch down and lift up in aborted motions, already faux fucking himself on Morrison’s broad, intrusive digits.

“There you go. Holy shit you take it like a champ, don’t you? You’re so silky and wet inside. Used so much lube… Your hole is glistening like a pretty mouth with lip gloss.”

Morrison’s hand is rubbing along his spine; he can feel it slide through the tacky sweat gathered there. The tenderness makes his lewd words even more jarring. Gabriel’s eyes are glazing over, his jaw hurting with the fierce clench.

“Shut. Up. God,” he grinds out, embarrassed from the mental images and trying not to show it.

Morrison slips in deeper; slow yet inexorable, forcing Gabriel’s body to spread and accommodate for him. He takes what he wants like a rude little boy and Gabriel realizes he is - literally - drooling for the treatment, mouth open and tongue almost hanging out. His balls feel ripe and swollen - just a little too tender; too ready to unload.

“Yeah. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Fucking yourself on my fingers. You love it, don’t you? Just need someone else to play with your pretty snatch. Show you how good it can feel. How to do it.”

There’s a fog in Gabriel’s head, and it makes it hard to understand. He’s a highly intelligent man and yet it surprises him - downright baffles - him to realize that yes he is fucking himself back, body rocking, knees sliding farther apart on the slick sheets. He’s grinding like an animal, on all fours, grunting with each filling he gets, and he wants to kick at Morrison and make him sorry for… for… whatever, but he can’t make himself move other than those little, fluid thrusts that are gaining momentum the more confidence he has.

“Yeah you love it,” Morrison mutters, answering his own question. He is still petting Gabriel’s spine; up and down motions that are a little frantic by now, and Gabriel can no longer tell whether it is still only his sweat or Morrison’s fingers have become clammy as well.

He lets his head hang down and stares between his thighs, seeing Morrison’s dick, trapped by the elastic of his underwear, nearly dipping inside his shallow belly button.

Gabriel’s mouth floods with saliva as he thinks about suckling at the tip; slipping his tongue into the velvety folds of foreskin and lick up the gathered pre-cum. He’s never felt it this strongly before; only idle passing thoughts about whether he would like sucking dick. Morrison’s dick. Whether he would like swallowing.

He’s never felt it this strongly; this overwhelming need to rub a thick cock against his tongue, feeling the drag and weight of it push into the back of his throat until he was drooling too much and couldn’t swallow it down anymore.

He’s never-

“How about we try this?”

Gabriel’s body jerks before he has the chance of understanding Jack’s low voice, a gurgling shout ripped from him - more of surprise than anything - when Morrison suddenly moves and crooks his fingers, pressing them perfectly and with delicious precision at that spot Gabriel had been searching for.

Tears spring up in his eyes, a drawn out sound - something like “hhhaaahhhhh” - wheezing out of him. There’s a cramp in his right calf and he wants to pay attention to it but Morrison his humming and pushing again, fingertips dragging in little circular motions against the spongy wall of Gabriel’s insides, massaging into the gland he has found.

“That’s it,” Morrison murmurs, fingers spreading, putting off the pressure in favor of just teasing him with glimpses of it - Gabriel’s body suddenly feeling overripe. Juicy. Ready. He feels almost delirious with want, and his cock has fattened out almost without him noticing. “I knew you’d be like that. So sensitive. Couldn’t be anything less with that gorgeous ass. God Gabriel, the things I wanna do to you.”

Gabriel angles his shoulders down, face mashing into the rumpled sheets of the bed, low shivers sliding through his body in waves that start at the very tip of his head and end in his toes.

He doesn’t know whether he is afraid or giddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	129. McCree/Reaper Humiliation

They’re still afraid of their commander, even 18 hours in and with him fixated tightly to the chair. Reynolds nearly got his nose mashed by a suddenly jerking knee, and now Reyes can’t move much at all anymore, thighs and calves bound tightly to the chair, back ramrod straight to accommodate his cuffed arms.

Jesse was star struck and uncommonly shy. He keeps to the back of the bunch, arms awkwardly crossed in front of him and shoulders pulled up as he tries to explain away the heat he feels in his belly the longer the ordeal goes on. 

The room was hot and stinking with hormones and sweat; some of the guys have started ducking out just to gulp in fresh air, but Jesse couldn’t make himself leave other than for quick restroom breaks and sips of water.

They didn’t have the guts to seriously get on Reyes’ case and the wild twinkling in his eyes showed that he knew as well. He was lazy almost, head tilting back, showing them his jugular; eyes heavy lidded. Sensual. 

He was daring them to finally make a move and nobody was daring to step forward.

Jesse stared at the way Reyes’ feet moved, a slow tipping up of the heavy steel capped toes that had taken up in frequency. Something was up and it intrigued Jesse but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You’re a bunch of useless idiots,” Reyes sighed, rolling his eyes. Jesse’s mouth was standing open and he didn’t realize. He was staring at the commander’s face, a thin sheen of sweat had sprung up along his hairline. 

His foot started flexing more noticeably and Jesse squeezed at his own biceps nervously because Reyes was bound down and unable to move much, and it did things to him.

.o.

Reyes had started getting more assertive, and while Jesse knew something was up, he would never have thought….

For 18 hours the commander had kept an almost zen-like quiet, only snorting derisively at their attempts to make him ‘talk’, and they’d been almost startled when he suddenly broke it.

He was sweating more noticeably, little pearls of moisture sliding down his throat or getting caught in his mustache. His knee was bouncing as much as possible.

Jesse was clenching his arms so hard around his chest it hurt to breathe. His cock was swollen and he didn’t dare to move even an inch, afraid others would notice.

They weren’t paying attention to him, though. They were circling Reyes like starved hounds, his goading and the length of the assignment getting to them. Maybe they had all thought they’d break it off sooner; that they didn’t have to try and go against their commander for 18 hours.

Their eyes are shining and their teeth are bared. They look feral and Jesse is just skulking around in the back, watching and breathing fast and shallow, and not trying to nut off.

When Reynolds breaks it startles all of them, though not as much as what happens after.

He roars in frustration and kicks at the chair hard enough to make it fall over with the heavy bulk of their commander in it. They’re all quiet, stunned by the sudden outbreak - and the fact that Reyes whimpers, a tight, little sound in the back of his throat, his eyes clenched tight as he-

Jesse watches, throat dry, cock pulsing as the crotch of Reyes’ thick, dark pants starts darkening even more, going wet and clinging to the bulge of his cock before quickly spreading out to the sides.

“Wha…” one of the guys murmurs and Jesse wants to reach down and squeeze his cock. He’s almost panting like a dog watching as the fabric can’t soak up more of the hot urine and it starts to well out from it, forming a quickly spreading puddle on the ground as Reyes lies helplessly, bound in a way that didn’t give him an option of even covering himself as his recruits stand stock still (rock hard…) and watch him piss himself.

Jesse imagines that he can even hear the stream of the piss; imagines the wet fabric clinging well enough to show the outline of his commander’s cock. His eyes flick up towards his face, his brown cheeks dark with a flush, bushy eyebrows drawn together in angry frustration. It’s when he slants his eyes open and looks at them out of the corner of them, teeth bared and a growling “You all failed!” barked at them that Jesse finally jerks to himself and turns around, legs feeling numb as he flees from the room and into the supply closet just across the hall.

He comes before he has gotten a good stroke in, the mental image of his commander lying in his own piss vivid in front of his eyes, thinking again of all the little tells that should’ve tipped him off but hadn’t.

Holy shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	130. Reaper/Reinhardt Praise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LORD please bless us with more submissive cockslut reaper going docile and pliant with a cock up his ass

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” Reinhardt purrs, thick fingertips rounding the soft gape of Reaper’s hole again and again. It’s warm to the touch; almost sickly so, the insides clinging and wet when he pushes just the tips inside.

“Get in,” Reaper hisses, black haze wafting from the corners of his mouth. His fingers are digging into the meat of his thighs, clamped just behind his knees, using his grip to fold himself into a neat little package. He’s a good boy, even though he likes to forget his manners if things aren’t going his way.

Reinhardt ignores it magnanimously. He crooks his fingers to feel the silky give of his insides and watch how the feral gnash of his teeth loosens, lips going a little slack and pupils blowing wide when he gets the first taste of what he wants.

“Sweet boy,” Reinhardt murmurs, rubbing his insides in little circular motions before he replaces them with his cock - the tip fatter and more satisfying, if Reaper’s reaction was anything to go by: he actually starts cooing low and soft, an almost purring as the tension bleeds from his body and his cock flexes where it lies heavy and drooling against his belly.

He looks peaceful when he gets deep dicked, a thick cock sliding in deep and patiently slow. Reinhardt is enough of a hedonist to want to enjoy the capitulation of his team mate.

“That’s it. You love cock, don’t you? Yesss just like that. You got the sweetest little peach just for me…”

He replaces Reaper’s hands with his own, the large palms warm as they cup the backs of the thick thighs, spreading them just a little more to have better leverage as he starts to rock; small, self-indulgent thrusts that have Reaper almost gurgling, belly shivering with his little gasps of breath.

“Pretty boy,” Reinhardt praises low, chin against his chest, watching Reaper’s cock flex out more sticky pre-cum. “Kleiner Liebling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	131. McCree/Hanzo Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Need more stuffs about McCree takin' Hanzo by the leash n teaching him who's the boss

If Hanzo had cat ears, Jesse is quite sure they would have been flat against his head by now. He looked as stubborn as they came, nose wrinkled and head tilted as far back as possible as he stemmed himself against the pull of the thin leash, the little bell in front of his collar tingling faintly.

“You’re a recalcitrant little thing, aren’t’cha?” Jesse drawled, fist unrelenting as he curled his wrist further towards his body, tugging at the leash. Hanzo dug his fingers into the carpet, leaning even farther away, threatening to destroy his pretty leash and collar. They were both not made to withstand the bulk of a grown man stemming against them.

He loved being a kitty - but he hated being restrained in any way.

“Hanzo!” Jesse barked when he could see the dainty clasp starting to slowly warp with the strain. Hanzo, unfamiliar with the sharpness in the deep voice, halted and stopped straining, head turned to the side as he cautiously watched Jesse out of the corner of his eyes.

“C’mere now. Stop being silly.” Jesse pointed imperiously to the spot between his spread knees and Hanzo’s cheeks became blotchy with hectic red dots as he warred with himself - obviously wanting to come closer but also not wanting to look like he did it because Jesse told him so.

“You’re goddamn ridiculous,” McCree murmured, leaning forward and snatching the archer at the back of his neck in one fluid, fast motion that left him no chance of escape.

He dragged the vaguely struggling form closer until he was finally kneeling where he wanted him to be - nice and upright so Jesse didn’t have to lean down too much for what he had in mind.

Hanzo’s pecs looked plump with milk, the nipples large and dark and soft; enough to make the water shoot into McCree’s mouth.

“There’s a good kitty,” he rumbled, hand absentmindedly curling quick and perfunctory to sling the slack of leash around his knuckles. “Gimme your milk. That’s it.”

Hanzo kept almost comically still as McCree started nursing, his mouth open wide and tongue pressing against the soft, feverishly hot areolas. The archer hissed in pain, fingers digging sharp into McCree’s thighs just to share the unpleasant sensation.

In the end he became quite eager for the treatment, though; angling up to give Jesse a better reach, his sleek, pretty cock arched just as much as his back as he nursed the gunslinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	132. McCree/Reaper Dom/sub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh oh! What about dom!Gabe instructing Jesse to go on a Hanamura train, wearing a certain article of clothing that signals that he's to be groped. However, the surprise is that the whole car is on it. And EVERYONE wants a piece. Cue Jesse get his wrists tied up by the hanging straps or having his legs spread for pictures. there was a name for this but I don't remember what. :3

Gabriel reaches down to get a good hand full of the kid’s ass, squeezing hard enough to make Jesse go on the tips of his feet as he wipes his wet lips against his dom’s jaw. He is making needy little sounds that almost make Gabriel re-think the whole plan to get the kid into the train station restroom and fuck him against a dirty toilet stall.

He can feel McCree’s cock against his hip, too; eager and hard, probably leaking everywhere. The kid was so hot for the experience, Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to call it all off just to get that warm, gripping hole on his dick that McCree was so very generous with.

“You ready?” he murmurs when the train pulls up into the station. Jesse whines high and nervous. His eyes are a little too wet and his cheeks burn a deep red. He looks like he’s on his best way into subspace already and Gabriel smirks as he reaches down and pops open the button of his jeans, eyes not leaving his sub’s face as he carefully pulls down the zipper until Jesse’s young, sleek cock pushes out into the air.

“Well then. In with you, slut.” He pushes Jesse towards the door that slides open, watching as the kid stumbles and awkwardly hobbles because his pants are sliding farther down his coltish hips. He looks fucking drunk, and Gabriel can’t wait to get his hands on the video footage afterward.

All those hands on Jesse’s body; how he’d look freaked out and needy, faintly, sluggishly struggling in their groping hands after the first commented about the kid’s dick being out in the open and already flushed with need.

He’d gather him up later, draped across the back of a chair, hole soft and gaping, cum trailing down towards his balls - and Jesse’d tell him about how two big guys held him down and spread his legs and showed the whole car what he had to offer.

Jesse was such a good slut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	133. Reaper/Soldier76 Slut Shaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ficlet ideas - gabe can get off hands-free if u play w/ his tits and talk to him just right :3c

Jack hooks his chin over Gabriel’s shoulder, watching his hands cup the generous swell of his pecs. They fit nicely in the shallow cups of his palms. He can hear the sharp intake of Gabriel’s breath, long fingers carefully curling into fists on top of his knees.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “be a good slut now. No touching, right?” He squeezes for emphasize, palms grinding against the tight points of Gabriel’s sensitive nipples.

Gabriel groans low, like he’s hurt, head falling back against Jack’s shoulder, hips restlessly shifting. His cock is bobbing awkwardly in front of him; hard enough to sway through the air but so heavy it dips down and smears against the inside of his trembling thighs.

“Do you want to touch?”

“Yes… please…”

Jack smirks, rubbing his cheek against Gabriel’s.

“Of course you want. You’d have your hand on your cock every minute of the day if you didn’t need to go out and be productive. Maybe you fuck your palm in the middle of the debriefings as well? Think about nutting while everyone around you is bored out of their minds, not knowing you’re a filthy whore that has his cock in hand?”

Gabriel grunts, belly muscles clenching sharp and sudden enough to make his cock bob anew. Jack can feel the muscles in his jaw bulging as he clenches his teeth, a high almost canine whine stuck in his throat just from Jack changing his touch, fingernails scraping gentle and feather light across the tight tips of his nipples and around the dark skin of his areolas.

“Yeah. That’s it. You love it when someone plays with your tits, don’t you? Would probably let just anybody play with you just as long as they squeezed your tits nice and complimented you on them. Narcissistic bastard. But they are gorgeous, aren’t they? And so sensitive…”

He stops scratching with the right hand, instead pinching it sudden and mean between two fingers to hear Gabriel cry out, back bowing and cock jerking out a dribble of pre-cum.

“That’s it. Yeah. Don’t you touch that. Gonna come just from your tits or not at all. I don’t care if you gonna have to walk around with your cock drooling and balls hurting…”

Gabriel groaned again, throat bobbing and eyes clenched tightly shut. If Jack saw the little glisten of tears in their corners he didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	134. DVa/Soldier76 Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love your DVa76 stuff, so how about something with them. Maybe she has him innocently playing video games with her but she's more focused on distracting him from playing properly. He had no idea what she ACTUALLY had in store for him...
> 
> Anonymous said: “ cyber, the world has to know: will 76 ever get to fuck dva”

“Am I too heavy?”

The Soldier only grunts in the negative as D.Va gets comfortable on his lap. He’s almost docile these days. Following every tug of her little fingers without complaint, letting her torture him sweetly until there were tears in his eyes.

One could almost think he wasn’t interested anymore - but she knew better: especially now with her ass planted on his lap she could feel his cock, warm and large and needy, pressing up at her from below, separated by layers of fabric.

“Alright then. Let’s get started.”

He has his big arms around her to grip the controller, and she snuggles back against his chest to let him smell her hair. She could hear him deeply inhale - could feel the surge of his cock against her, tapping insistently against her ass as if politely asking for attention.

She smirked, eyes heavy lidded and on the screen of their game. She experimentally moves, hips shimmying from side to side, and listens to his soft hiss. He’s not complaining, though; even when she starts to bounce with intent. He whines, then, high and pained, his large biceps tensing and hands trembling on the controller but he lets her play like a well-trained dog, a slave to her needs.

When she reaches between her legs and into the slit of his shorts, everything is warm and damp, his cock springing into her palm eagerly. It’s large and so hot to the touch; the veins prominent and bulky against her small, questing fingers.

She has to look down to carefully pull him out of the fabric and let him in the air, and when she glances back up, he is driving his car into a wall even though he is making no sound - is, in fact, sitting still as a statue beneath her, seemingly afraid to even make a peep when she has her cruel little fingers on his dick.

“Don’t stop driving,” she tells him and he jerks to action, nearly fumbling the controller out of his large hands. Sometimes she thinks she should let him finger her. His hands are so large; they’d cup her cunt perfectly, keep her folds warm against one palm. Those long, thick fingers sliding slowly into her.

Maybe she should. It would be fun to watch him desperately jerk it while sucking her juices from his digits.

Right now she lets his cock up between her thighs, snug against her covered cunt.

“Look how close you are,” she whispers, “That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it? Touch your cock to my poor little pussy? Look how large it looks next to me. You’d destroy me.”

She can feel his rough, stubbled cheek against her temple as he obediently tilts his head to stare, his cock dark and almost dangerous looking next to her sky blue panties, so thin and tight he could see the outline of her plump folds.

He shakes underneath her, a sad, fat pearl of pre-cum bubbling up at the tip and sliding down the sides of his cock.

“Awww…it’s crying. Poor thing,” she coos and giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	135. DVa/Soldier76 Ruined Orgasm

D.Va slowly drags her palm across the feverishly hot head of 76′s erection, smirking when he digs in his heels, huffing like he’s ran a mile.

He’s red-faced and sweating, pupils hectic little pinpricks in his pale eyes, hair sticking up everywhere even though he hasn’t taken his hands off of the edge of the sofa since she started torturing him. 

He looks crazy and she thinks that’s the cutest look on him yet.

She slowly drags her soft palm across the swollen tip, catching whatever pre-cum dribbles out; the other one is curled close to the base of his cock, holding it nice and steady for her to play with. He is almost worryingly hot to the touch, thick veins bulging at the sides.

“You’re so excited,” she tells him with a giggle in her voice. She takes away her hand and smiles at the tacky, sticky strands that connect her palm with his cock before they snap and she wipes it negligently against the hard ridges of his abs.

“I should let you come more often; you look really cute like this.” She leans forward, and sees his mouth drop open in mindless anticipation as her little tongue snakes, almost touching, almost licking - his cock flexing in the tight grip of her strong, thin fingers, pulsing, eager - before she draws quickly away once more with a chuckle and a loving, pat to the blunt tip.

He groans. His balls look swollen, drawn up tight to his body and moving every now and then - little flexes towards his cock as if he was on the cusp of coming, like he needed just a little bit more to shoot - jaw going tight and eyebrows drawing up…

She liked to pull away completely in these moments, listen to the pained, wheezing whine in the back of his throat and watch his pale eyes get watery with tears.

“I promised you, you’d get to come, right?” she asks him calmly, face serious. His lips tremble. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he should answer - whether there is a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answer. He lives in constant fear of getting it snatched away in the last second and it makes her so hot she can feel her sticky fluids sliding out of her pulsing cunt, getting her panties messy with it.

He nods after all, fingers dug in deep into the edge of the couch. She nods, hand slowly stroking up, then down his cock.

“Yeah. And I keep my promises, right?”

She leans forward again, mouth wet with candy pink lipgloss, tongue out - warm breath ghosting across the thick tip of his gorgeous, big cock.

She can hear him wheeze above her, chuffing like an engine, heels digging into the floor - and uses that moment to pinch his thigh dangerously close to his balls, fingernails sharp and mean.

He cries out in alarm and pain above her, body going rigid, cock jerking in her grasp once before she quickly lets go all together, watching with fascination as it flexes and bobs awkwardly in the air, thick globs of cum dribbling out and sliding along the shaft while he tries to slide away from the cruel pinch of her fingers.

Afterwards, she is carding those same sharp tipped nails gently through his short hair while he lies with his head on her small tits and soaks her top with his tears.

“I liked that,” she tells him, fingers dragging rhythmically up and down the nape of his neck. “I want to do that more often. I think I can do better than that. Oh man, that was awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	136. McCree/Hanzo CowCree

Despite the fact that Hanzo hasn’t milked Jesse in two days, the cow looks very content in that moment, eyelids heavy and long, thin tail swishing. He looked like he was about to fall asleep, teeth softly clicking against the bit, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. Every now and then he’d bend low, nudging into the bucket Hanzo had left just about in reach with an assortment of treats just to keep the cow happy and docile.

Not that Jesse was a difficult creature to deal with: he was complacent in most things, happy to follow Hanzo’s lead and good tempered enough not to bite or kick when his new owner fumbled through learning how to properly milk him.

He was curious; that was his biggest problem - always with his nose shoved against Hanzo’s hip, trying to sniff out any treats, beard scratchy and lips so very soft as he sought whatever he imagined to have caught a whiff of.

The issue was easily enough resolved. Jesse didn’t like his bridle after the week or two he had spent tethered to a stake, but a carrot eased him over his unwilling head shakes until Hanzo had him where he needed him to be, the rope short enough to keep him from constantly turning his head and ogling with big, gentle, brown eyes.

“There you go, boy,” Hanzo murmured, carefully sitting down on a low stool at Jesse’s hips, patting his rump. The cow was getting a little soft around the hips and thighs - Hanzo wasn’t shy to admit he was spoiling him - but he kind of liked it that way. The motion seemed to alert Jesse to the fact that his owner was back, because suddenly he was not as sleepy and content anymore.

He brayed unhappily, trying to twist and show off the filled strain of his teats, big pink nipples soft and swollen, and on the cusp of painful becoming painful. Hanzo bit his lip, staring at the soft jiggle in the large pecs, just enough fat there to make them move the tiniest bit with Jesse’s impatient pulls against the bridle.

He cried again, obnoxiously loud, knees shifting in the straw, blinking at Hanzo with those large, pitiful eyes as much as possible with his limited range of movement.

Hanzo clucked his tongue, face hot as he kept staring at Jesse’s teats - the urge to drop down and service the cow almost unbearable.

“Don’t pretend. You’re getting spoiled enough,” he told him gruffly. He felt damnably embarrassed; as if anybody was likely to burst in on them and see Hanzo shamefully lusting for a cow.

“Let’s try this.” His voice was wobbling. The tips of his ears were burning, pounding quick and nervous in time with the distracting throb of his cock as he grabbed Jesse’s swishing brown spotted tail at the base to hold it out of the way as he brought slick fingers to the cow’s hole.

Nasty. He was so very nasty for even considering this. Fingering an animal.

Jesse brayed again, unhappy with the situation - and unused to being denied after Hanzo had spent the better half of two months catering to his every whim; always greedy for the creamy, rich milk the cow produced.

For a moment Hanzo got distracted by the sight of Jesse’s testicles; large and ripe between his thighs, the tip of his heavy, meaty cock just about visible… then his slick fingers touched the clench of Jesse’s ass and he became distracted by how soft it was; barely any resistance to the thick, buttery muscles as he pushed in easily as the cow immediately stopped everything he was doing in favor of widening the stance of his knees and instinctively baring down on the intrusion.

Silky, warm walls closed around Hanzo’s finger, suckling and pulling messily as the cow’s inner muscles moved in confusion.

“There you go,” he rasped, the blood in his cheeks hot as he started slowly fucking his finger into the cow’s ass while McCree’s thin tail flicked, though severely restricted in range since Hanzo was still holding it tight at the base.

McCree brayed again, the tinkling of his teeth furiously gnawing at the bit loud as Hanzo carefully pushed deeper, cock thick and tenting his loose pants. He was ashamed at his own depravity; how hot he became from fingering the ass of an animal - but Jesse’s cock was thickening as well, swinging almost humorously between his thick thighs as Hanzo unwittingly searched, searched… searched… fingertip rubbing against soft walls, pushing insistently, looking for the ripe swell of Jesse’s…

And then he found it, the cow freezing all of a sudden, a drawn out sound of confused arousal coming from him as Hanzo fondles his prostate slow and careful. He was nervous enough that he wanted to press down mean and harsh; rub until Jesse was forced to come so hard he’d see stars, all that creamy … special… milk wasted to the dusty straw covered ground.

He did not give in to the urge, though. He bit his lip hard, harder, sweat springing up along his hairline as he carefully fingered his cow, watching how much Jesse tried to stay utterly still as the new sensations washed over him, big floppy ears flicking again and again.

Hanzo could see the involuntary twitches beneath the skin and through the reflection of the metal bucket could just about make out how his tongue was slowly but surely starting to loll out, eyes going glassy and heavy lidded.

“Good boy. That’s it,” he murmured, nervous, rubbing gently, lovingly, - practically making love to the cow’s swollen, ripe prostate.

It didn’t take long until Jesse started grunting; low, animal sounds of need that made Hanzo excited enough that his cock started wetting at the tip, a dark spot forming on his pants because he’s shameful enough these days that he foregoes underwear in favor of easy access.

God, but Jesse’s ass was soft; suckling and welcoming even to the second finger Hanzo pushed into him. He could just about imagine how it would feel to fuck the animal. Have Jesse grunt when he was fucking him on his cock. Would the cow look just as happy as he did now? Ears flicking and mouth stretched into a sloppy grin by the bit, his teats swelling just that little bit more… going pink in excitement, the large nipples darkening…

Hanzo had to swallow, saliva suddenly starting to flow in mindless reaction to the sight of Jesse’s pecs ready for a milking, ready and primed; looking like they only needed the gentlest lap of Hanzo’s tongue to start dribbling relentlessly…

“Fuck,” Hanzo groaned, bringing up two fingers to his mouth to sloppily wet them. “Fuck,” he whispered again as he leaned forward, fingers of one hand pressing down in a tight, hard circling motion against Jesse’s prostate, fingers of the other rubbing across his swollen tits, wetting them, barely simulating a mouth on them -

And that’s when Jesse came, groaning low, mouth open in a shivery grin, tongue lolling and drooling as he bears down on the fingers inside him and not only comes in heavy, thick stripes into the straw but only starts wet from his tits; dribbling quick and relentlessly like a faucet that hasn’t been screwed shut enough; all that creamy milk meeting between his pecs before pearling and dripping to the ground.

Hanzo presses his free hand against his cock, bucking, whining, red faced and sniffling as he comes so hard for a second all he can hear is white noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	137. McCree/Reaper Shark

Jesse can’t believe he’s doing this - can’t believe the creature is letting him do this. He looks unimpressed - a little bored, even, but he is accommodating enough to let the nervous young man play and explore.

He’s almost tripped over him earlier; not seeing the brown skin and grey scales until the last second - the lazy whap of the massive tail against the stone cliff the only thing alerting him that he was about to scale a living, breathing creature on his way to the tip of the craggy stone reaching out over the sea.

The creature hasn’t said a word or made a sound, looking at him with disdain as Jesse stood gawking, but for all his standoffish attitude he didn’t seem aggressive.

Jesse had ogled him, from the tip of his head to the sharp fin at the end of the long, thick tail and hadn’t known what to take in first, to be honest. The thing that pushed him closer against any better judgement, had been the sight of the underside of the tail, though.

The creature hadn’t seemed embarrassed in the least, showing him his vulnerable underside - and those smaller fins that were relaxed enough to show just a glimpse of what they were hiding; the curious slit underneath a little pink-ish and puffy looking.

The man - shark… creature…? had watched him calmly as he’d approached, stumbling across the little, smooth rocks towards him, looking up with a raised eyebrow at the gangly human ranging over him until Jesse had fallen to his knees and carefully reached for him.

The creature’s carefully groomed facial hair was soft against his palm and his nervous question of “What are you?” was blithely ignored even as the gentle push of his thumb was not, jaw falling readily open to show off rows of needle sharp teeth even as the gaze returned from disdainful to bored, watching calmly as Jesse stared, cock eager and hard in his pants.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, thumb pushing a little against the creature’s upper lip just to watch the length of it’s canine. “Holy shit,” he whispered again when the man let his tongue just flop out; as pink-ish as the flesh Jesse had seen farther down, and dripping with sticky, slimy saliva that was decidedly not human.

The teeth looked like they were ready to rip flesh and crack bone and still he thought stupidly eager: I want to stick my cock in that.

.o.

The creature moved for easier access and Jesse thought he might be flexing for him. Getting his beefy arms up and over his head to stretch his upper body sinuously, one eyebrow raised again as he watched Jesse move down his body.

He wondered if the shark could feel how sweaty his palms were against his strangely slick skin or the silky minuscule scales of his abdomen. As he petted, eyes staring doggedly at the tender little fins shielding what he had spied earlier, he couldn’t help but notice how rough the skin was when brushed against the tight coat of scales; a sandpapery feel like little thorns against his palm that had him shudder and tail whap against the ground in annoyance until he resumed his petting in the right direction.

.o.

The creature was unhappy with his fumbling as he unceremoniously pushed the small fins to the side (and how soft they felt against his fingers; so unlike the rest of the creature’s abdomen), and stared with his mouth hanging open at the swollen, long slit, but he was keeping still enough for him to rub two fingers up and down the tight seam.

The scales weren’t as unforgiving here; soft and so small it mostly felt like normal skin as he dragged first the tip of his fore- and middlefinger, along and then, when there was no give and the swollen lips wouldn’t part for him, he pressed his thumb against the apex, trying to wriggle his way between while his cock was jerking in his jeans.

The creature’s tail moved again, slapping against the ground and shifting. He could feel the large muscles against his legs and a wave of heat and ice cold washed through him as he realized just how strong the appendage was. Heavy and enough to crush him if the creature was seriously annoyed by his stupid fumbling.

Jesse glanced upwards again, staring at the wide chest and dark pink nipples, then at the careful groom of the facial hair. 

“Fuck, you’re a pretty one, aren’t’cha?” he rasped, lifting his fingers to lick at them - and taste the salt of the creature’s body - then return to that sweet, puffy slit. It was like he had said the magic words - or maybe the creature was just taking pity of him; because suddenly the tense muscles he had felt before became buttery soft, allowing the puffy lips to slide apart and…-

… and a thick, slimy cock to emerge; tapered and sturdy looking, standing upright and needy while the little fins he’d pushed apart earlier were fluttering helplessly.

Looking up, he could see a flush on the creature’s cheeks, facial expression almost reluctantly curious as he glanced down his nose at what Jesse was doing to him.

Well… with a cock, Jesse could work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	138. Reinhardt/Mondatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short prompt: "Please, sir, no more teasing." He begged. "Please, Mr. Wilhelm, sir..."
> 
> Anonymous said: “youre still taking prompts? ever thought of human au reindatta with buisnessman reinhardt sugardaddy-ing broke student mondatta?“

Mondatta scrabbled at Reinhardt’s back, then at his head, fingers digging into the thick hair there.

“Please, sir, no more teasing.” He begged. “Please, Mr. Wilhelm, sir…” 

Reinhardt chuckled, hoisting him a little farther up and pressing him against the wall with ease. 

“You’re so cute,” he told him in a murmur, nosing his way beneath the young man’s ear just to hear him whine high in the back of his throat, bony knees digging a little painfully into Reinhardt’s sides. “You’re always so polite. So sweet.”

He breathed in deep as he let one hand slide beneath the soft, wide pullover Mondatta was wearing to get at his skin. He was almost painfully thin, and not exactly a little sweet distraction on the side with how tall he was, but Reinhardt thought still thought he was unbearably cute. Especially with how quickly flustered he became, the tranquil exterior cracking so quickly whenever his sugar daddy made him do something ‘embarrassing’.

“You always smell so good,” Reinhardt sighed sincerely, tongue sneaking out to taste as his big fingers slid across the soft, fluttering expanse of belly, shoving the student’s pullover up as he went.

Mondatta’s voice went high and alarmed, limbs clutching at Reinhardt like an octopus.

“M-Mr. Wilhelm! P-people could see.”

He had him pinned right next to one of his huge office windows. Reinhardt grinned, twisting his hand until his thumb could swipe slow and languid across the warm, excited bulge in the young man’s tight cotton trousers. Always so easily excited. So quick to come undone.

“Either I stop teasing and I let you down, or I play with you a little more right here where everybody can see what a darling little harlot I have. Your choice. You can’t have both, Kleiner,” he rumbled.

Mondatta shuddered bodily, face going hot against Reinhardt’s cheek.

“I… I… I want to stay here,” he whispered back as if Reinhardt didn’t know his sweet toy by now; and what a slutty boy the philosophy student was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	139. McCree/Reaper Shark

“Yeah, that… that works for you? Right?” Jesse mumbles, eyes hooded, watching the slow emergence of the slick, tapered cock. “Just stay still. Good boy. You’re… heh… you’re a good boy, right?”

He’s babbling and nervous, fingers framing the fleshy part of the creature’s slit, palm pressing carefully down to feel how warm and firm he was. Despite his mindless prattling, the shark seemed relaxed - almost bored if not for the way his cock was slowly but surely sliding farther out, the fleshy lips of his slit parting to accommodate the widening girth of it. He had one arm behind his head, the other across his belly as he watched Jesse with dark eyes.

He was calm; the powerful body stretched out, the large fins at the tip of his tail dragging lazily through the water. A little farther away on the glistening stones of the shore lay a large fish carcass, bleeding out sluggishly with a perfect imprint of the creature’s sharp teeth in its belly.

He had presented Jesse with it almost rudely, slapping it on the ground and staring at him with such dark intentions, the young fisherman had thought it was meant as a kind of threat. The sharkman - which he secretly called Gabriel in his head - had looked even more pissy then usual when Jesse had just stood there, hands helplessly spread at his sides, and had vanished for a good half hour before emerging again and lying down, waiting for Jesse to approach slowly.

“Fuck,” Jesse murmured, hand slowly rubbing down the smooth expanse of Gabriel’s tail, feeling the freakishly strong muscles beneath the skin, then sliding slowly back up against the grain - stopping for a moment at the small, tender hole of his cloaca to carefully round it with the trembling tips of his fingers.

Gabriel huffed, tail splashing a little more vigorously into the shallows, making Jesse jerk and glance up at him nervously, other hand strangling his throbbing cock - the stupid thing too dumb to understand when it was supposed to lose interest in the proceedings because a mauling was imminent.

As it was, Gabriel’s eyebrows had drawn together and he looked mildly annoyed and confused - but not like he was about to rip Jesse a new one. So he carefully returned his hand, thumb sliding once, twice across the twitching hole of Gabriel’s cloaca, feeling how soft the skin there was, before he decided that he wouldn’t push his luck and slid the last few centimeters up towards the fully parted slit and Gabriel’s extended cock, the elongated slit at the tip bubbling with slimy pre-cum.

“You’re a good boy,” he whispered, trembling fingertips touching the thick, smooth base of the shark cock, feeling how warm it was and squeezing his fist around the tip of his cock.

Gabriel’s head had turned, dark eyes watching intently what Jesse was doing to himself. There was a new kind of interest in them that Jesse couldn’t pinpoint until the shark suddenly moved, upper body curling towards the young human man, and thick arms curling around him to pull him closer.

Jesse thought dimly that this was how he was going to die: cock out and hand around the slick, intriguing dick of a shark person.

.o.

Gabriel was, despite his prickly demeanour, impossibly gentle. Most of anything, he seemed to just want to clutch Jesse to himself. His arms were large and inescapable and no matter how much Jesse squirmed, he had a firm and careful hold on him, not allowing him to slip from him more than a couple centimeters.

Jesse was overwhelmed.

He couldn’t decide what to focus on first: the careful press of sharp, dangerous teeth along his shoulders and neck whenever Gabriel lovingly nibbled on him, or the slow, inexorable slide of his cock slipping deeper and deeper and deeper, and spreading Jesse gradually farther.

Jesse was whining high in his throat, hands trying to find purchase and only managing to grab onto the thick forearms of the creature holding and fucking him, making him take the slimy, intriguing cock he’d been fondling and dancing around for weeks - Gabriel coming back again and again like a well-trained puppy, offering his body for Jesse’s uneducated fondling.

He wondered, dimly, whether this was some kind of payback; whether Gabriel thought that weeks of getting felt up and molested by the human were the pay for this now: Jesse unwittingly fucking himself on the wicked cock, feet placed on the sides of the thick tail and belly heaving as he breathed through a minor panic attack because he was sure he could feel that long, warm cock right in his belly.

“Don’t… don’t hurt me,” he whined, trembling and overstimulated, his cock - his stupid, fucking cock - so hard it stood up into the salty sea air all on its own, dark red and painful to the touch; his pubes just above it standing in a tacky tuft that Gabriel seemed stupidly curious of because one large hand kept returning to it: sliding down Jesse’s trembling belly to card fingers through it before returning up and hugging around the kid’s ribs.

His fear was unfounded, though: Gabriel never got rough. He huffed behind him, the flap of his gills soft and wet as he seemed to need to take air in from both ways. His teeth never broke skin as he nibbled gently, lovingly, pressing carefully into him and marking him up as he let Jesse fuck himself on his cock.

It took him a while until he realized that he was even doing it: that his small nervous jerks were the only things moving himself on the shark’s cock.

“Oh god,” Jesse groaned, head coming back up, cheeks pounding with the hot embarrassment of it. Looking down he could see his swaying cock, ready to shoot just from the delicious, slick stimulation inside; and farther down he could see Gabriel’s tail; long and greybrown and lazily swishing in the water, his pink little cloaca clenching whenever Jesse moved and his insides squeezed down on the delicious cock. The only sign that Gabriel was just as hot for what was happening as the hapless human atop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	140. McCree/Hanzo Seadragon

Hanzo looks like he’s one wrong movement of Jesse’s away from plunging back into the sea and leaving the human sitting and frustratingly aroused - again.

Jesse halts where he kneels little more than an arm length away, eyes roving the gorgeous creature and trying not to fixate on the way his cocks had poked out; pearly white as the rest of his stunning tail, sliding out from their hidden sheathes, the slit a soft petal pink that playfully trailed down to his cloaca.

“Don’t go,” Jesse begs, biting his tongue when the sound makes Hanzo clutch his satchel of twinkling treasures tighter to his chest. The creature is watching him out of the corners of his dark eyes, mouth pulled into a little, pouty moue. His tail lifts, translucent fins glistening in the sun, then lets it splash noisily back into the water.

He’s as skittish as ever, but Jesse is determined to keep him close this time. He was so much different than Gabriel: Where Gabriel was almost difficult to shoo back into the brine and make him understand that their playdate was over (Gabriel had quite different opinions on who of the two was the one to end their little trysts), Jesse had to painstakingly watch his every move when around Hanzo to make sure the prissy creature wouldn’t dive right back in.

“You’re just a gorgeous thing aren’t you?” he coos, arm carefully stretching out beneath the troubled gaze. In his mind, he called Hanzo a princeling. He seemed just as fussy as one in any case. It had taken so long to even get him to come close - a lot of coaxing and the offering of a few shining coins, actually - and having him sit there, obviously just as affected and interested as Jesse was… it was like torture.

“You’re pretty pent up yourself, aren’t you? Liked watching me play with my cock?” It’s been his newest tactic; sitting a safe distance away, slowly jerking his cock and letting Hanzo watch; the curious, confused gaze of the creature almost enough for the moment. Hanzo’s eyes flicked down as if he understood, looking at Jesse’s cock hanging out from his pants heavy and wet.

“Let me look at what you got there, hm? Got the prettiest dick there… fuck… you got two?”

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Hanzo loved any sort of praise; he doubted the creature understood the words but the tone of voice probably worked just as well in this case. Hanzo preened whenever Jesse cooed at him, and now was no different: one cock, the longer one, jerked a bit, the slit at the flared tip dilating a bit to ooze out thick pre-cum while the smaller one pushed out of the soft sheathe just a little bit more.

“Damn…” He touched the side of Hanzo’s tail, fingers almost slipping on the smooth scales. Here, too, he was so different to Gabriel; Gabriel was warm, skin soft as a human’s as long as he didn’t drag his palm against the grain. Hanzo on the other hand was cool and slick; not quite feeling like an ordinary fish but coming very close anyway.

“You like that, don’t you? Just stay there… sit nice and still. I’m going to make you feel so good… just trust me…”

He was babbling, hand inching over towards the gorgeous cocks. He couldn’t believe there were two. He couldn’t believe how soft the skin around them was, so pink and vulnerable and without any scales… silky and sensitive if the jerk of Hanzo’s tail was anything to go by.

“Just stay there… good boy…”

.o.

Hanzo wasn’t making a damn sound but he had let go of his satchel with one hand in favor of clutching at Jesse’s hair hard enough to pull a few out and make him tear up.

He had his head in the creature’s lap and his mouth stuffed with the small, tapered cock, tongue dragging slow and careful against it, licking and occasionally suckling while Hanzo’s tail thrashed and pounded against the stones on the shore.

It was a little frightening to be honest; Hanzo wasn’t as gentle as Gabriel had been; he seemed far less in control, yet still Jesse didn’t budge and let the long cock slap wet and meaty against the side of his face while he blew the smaller nub.

If he didn’t knew better - hadn’t been able to witness first hand how wet Hanzo got, both cocks drooling liberally, one of which Jesse slurped up noisily - he would have thought he was hurting the creature. As such, he couldn’t help himself but soothingly rub the shining tail, hand inching closer towards that sweet little cloaca until he was able to round it with two fingers and feel its almost desperate little contractions.

He pulled back with a lewd pop, staring right at Hanzo’s face. He was flushed a strange kind of blue up to the tip of his pointed ears, and only when Hanzo leaned a little back, both arms curling in a protective manner around his satchel, did he realize how close he was to the creature; that he’d never been allowed to almost sit on him, hands all over the pretty tail and feeling him up.

As he looked down, he could see how the longer cock jerked; gracefully curved and so thick in the middle that Jesse’s belly clenched with the need to sit down on it and feel the flared strange tip rub up against his insides.

“Such a pretty boy you are,” he assures Hanzo, thumbing at the smaller cock that reminded him so much of a juicy clit - especially when Hanzo jerked and made a sound, muffling the awkward warbling cry into the leather of his satchel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	141. Hanzo Exhibitionism

They could be mistaken for a couple, Hanzo thinks. The market is bustling and he has hooked himself into his acquaintance’s arm, walking with him through throngs of people and inspecting the wares that were on offer. His partner was kind enough; not prattling uselessly as they moved along, seemingly content with Hanzo’s presence.

Nobody would think that they had met up only an hour earlier in a Starbucks, exchanging a few distracted niceties, the tips of Hanzo’s ears burning with nervous excitement while the other man was distinctly distracted, eyes glued to the zipper of Hanzo’s long, dark coat.

“I need to see it,” he’d said suddenly, wiping his sweaty hands at his jeans and slipping from the stool. Hanzo had felt his heartbeat ratcheting up as he’d been grabbed at the wrist and pulled towards the men’s room. He’d felt naughty; downright devious. He’d done it a few times before, though on his own. Walking the streets with his hands deep in his pockets, wearing high boots and the long trench coat so nobody would be any the wiser.

That he was naked underneath.

The men’s room had been empty, though Hanzo felt it would not have mattered to the other man one way or another - and that made everything that much better. He felt like he was helpless; as if he was being bullied by this man into doing it; being filthy in public, showing himself off. The man was big and broad enough to give the impression, gently bullying Hanzo into a corner of the room, next to the pissoirs. He was huffing almost obnoxiously loud.

He was just as excited as Hanzo. The thought made the archer stupidly giddy, nipples peaking tight and painful, rubbing against his coat as he thought about what would have been if other people had been there; men standing at the pissoirs, or washing their hands as he got inspected publicly; the practically-stranger nearly ripping his coat open as fast as he could to get an eyeful of the wares; staring greedily at Hanzo’s naked body, watching as his cock moved beneath the gaze, lifting up, showing the ladder piercing along the underside.

“Oh yeah,” the man had said, palming Hanzo’s chest, cupping the swell of his tit, “yeah you’re filthy, aren’t you?”

And yes, Hanzo was. He was filthy; he wanted people to know he was. He almost wished the man would slip behind him in the middle of the market; make him expose himself, show everybody how hard he was, his cock rubbing against the inside of the coat, getting tender and a little painful; smearing it with his excited pre-cum. He wanted them to see that he was naughty and liked to go out as good as naked.

“Here. Here is a good place,” his companion suddenly muttered, pulling him into the space between two houses on the edge of the market; the next stands only a few feet away, cutting the bulk of people off while still a few strolled past Hanzo’s back. He could feel some accidentally brushing him as they walked, not paying attention to the two men standing there. Hanzo’s hands felt numb. He was rooted to the mouth of the alley, staring at the other man with wide eyes and a fluttering pulse. He hadn’t anticipated to be actually doing it. Stupid, really, when he had met with the stranger for this exact purpose; had scoured dingy websites looking for someone accessible, someone that would love to see him show himself off in public…

“Come now,” the man urged with a low voice, glancing shortly over Hanzo’s shoulder, then back at him. “It’s perfect here.” He’s palming his own crotch now, gently squeezing the subtle bulge of his erection; and that more than anything jerks Hanzo out of his sudden lethargy, a bolt of arousal spiking through him at his companion’s lewd display.

He makes a conscious effort to breathe through his nose, slow and even as he reaches for the zipper of his coat. He can hear people talking behind him, hear the crunching of their boots. It’s not cold enough to see his breath but so cold that nobody looks twice at his heavy get up.

“Yeah, that’s it,” the man rasps, eyes glued to his chest and every centimeter of skin that is revealed. He looks a little crazy; eyes bulging, mouth set in a straight line. Hanzo wonders if people can put one and one together if they look over and see him and his intent stare.

He hopes they will.

Somebody of the endless throng at his back knowing he was exposing himself in public; showing his body off to somebody whose real name he did not even know.

He felt hot despite the cold around him, toes curling in his heavy boots when he spread his coat with trembling hands. His cock was swaying ridiculously in front, bouncing with his hectic rabbit fast heartbeat.

“You’re so naughty. Filthy exhibitionist,” the man said, staring at Hanzo’s dick, hectic red spots appearing on his throat. “You like this, yeah? Showing yourself off in public? Fuck, a couple people have stared at us already.” He clenched his hands into tight fists, then carefully relaxed them at his sides when Hanzo’s cock jerks in response, pre-cum bubbling up at the slit.

“Yeah. Yeah. You love that. Fuck. Come on, show off for me.”

Hanzo licked his lips, neck prickling. Were they looking at him right now? Were more and more people starting to stare at him, seeing how he stood with his feet a careful shoulder breadth apart, discreetly holding his coat open? Were they looking as he slowly lowered himself into a squat, letting go of his coat and putting his hands to the ground?

He glanced up at his companion, but couldn’t hold eye contact for long. His pulse was racing, thinking about a wrong movement, or a gust of wind causing his coat to slip from his knees and expose his naked legs.

That would get people’s attention. His cock jerked, dripping more pre-cum that oozed from the slit and started drooling down to the ground, leaving evidence of his naughtiness right in the open.

“Yeah. You’re a filthy slut,” the man murmurs, staring down at him, eyes flicking up to the happenings behind him every now and then but mostly staring at him, taking all of him in.

“I should make you turn around like that. Show everybody what you are. Or maybe… Maybe get you in a club. Give them some permanent markers so they can write on your body. I could show you off for them before, though. Show them your tits; how plush they are. Fuck, you got nice tits you know that?”

Hanzo is staring up at him, mouth a little open, eyes glassy. There’s a little puddle of pre-cum between his boots. Could people hear the man talk?

“Can you come like this?” the man rasps now, “Right in the open? Just from a bit of dirty talk?”

Hanzo licks his lips, lifts his hand and rubs a finger around the pulsing, swollen head of his cock - then lets it trail down to wet the thick vein bulging between his ladder piercings.

“I… might…” he curls his hand around his cock, the tips of his ears throbbing. He has his cock in hand with people walking at his back. He can hear one of the salesmen from the market loud and obnoxious; it’s like he’s standing right next to him, hackling about one thing or another.

He can feel his cock pulse in his hand, more pre-cum dripping down his knuckles. The air is so cold but all it does is make him feel hotter. More naughty. His nipples are hard, little tips and he wishes someone would pinch them and pull on them meanly. Make them hurt as he jerks off beneath the heated gaze of the stranger.

“Holy shit,” he’s rasping, wiping one hand over his mouth, eyes still a little bulging as he stares at Hanzo. “You’d do it. Freak.” He sounds relieved; almost gentle as he says it, then his eyes become a little harder, head jerking towards the end of the alley behind him.

“Get up. I wanna see you take a few steps like that. And then you can jerk off for me.”

Hanzo almost stumbles when he carefully stands. He wants to reach for the sides of his coat, make sure it will not swish more than intended and expose him - but a quelling look from his partner has him keep his hands uselessly at his sides, knees feeling weak and wobbly as he slowly walks towards him.

He’ll do it. He’ll jerk off for the stranger in public. Shoot his cream against the wall of a dark alley where anybody could walk past and see. Maybe be disgusted at whatever creep would do something like it.

The thought has his balls pulse almost painfully. They jerk hard enough that he feels nauseous for a moment as he walks, cock bobbing until he carefully takes it in hand, moving down the alley naked and with his dick in his fist.

He thinks he might be addicted to this.

Nobody of his team may ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	142. Reaper/Reinhardt Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *claps hands together and prays to the kink gods* size kink gabe. Likes to feel weak and vulnerable and like he doesn't have to be the big man in charge for once. Which is why Rein is perfect for all his sexual appetites

“There you go… hold still… just like- that, yeah… a tiny bit more… bend your back, Schätzchen. Let me see your pretty hole. Show me where you want my cock.”

Gabriel hides his face in the crook of his arm, whining high as he follows Reinhardt’s voice and the gentle press of his large fingers against the small of his back. He curves his spine down, tailbone angling up towards the ceiling; ass cheeks spreading open a bit more.

His hole looks unbelievably soft. It’s gaping a little from the slow, long fingering, and now that Reinhardt has the tip of his cock pressing against it teasingly, it is practically mouthing at the wet glans.

“That’s it. Good boy. Would you look at that.”

“Daddy, please,” Gabriel wheezes out. He sounds like he’s on the verge of an asthma attack, high and reedy.

Sometimes Reinhardt wonders about Gabriel’s family life. He’s never asked him, of course. Still, he thinks Gabriel needs this a little too much, sometimes. He can get clingy and almost weepy with need, the large burly man sitting heavily on Reinhardt’s lap, needing some cuddling behind closed, secure doors.

“Ja,” he hums, looking down, watching himself drag the fat head of his cock along the plump, clenching rim, feeling it try to suckle at the very tip - the other hand thumbing at one cheek, pushing it to the side. “You’re a good boy. Just look how perfect you are like this…”

He carefully nudges his hips forward, the tip of his cock starting to slip inside, pressing Gabriel’s muscles apart slowly to make him feel the burn. Only seconds in, the other man is already groaning and moving his head from the crook of his arm in favor of stuffing his face into the unmade bed while grabbing hand fulls of the sheets. 

He is rolling his body, the muscles in his impressive thighs tensing as he goes up onto the balls of his feet, lifting his ass into the burning sensation - and only making it worse with it as he makes himself take too much too fast.

“Easy now. Daddy got you. Papi hat dich, Schätzchen.”

Gabriel is a large man and still Reinhardt easily curls over him, one large hand between his shoulder blades to press him down mercilessly, the other at his hips, grounding him there as well: making him kneel back down properly so Reinhardt can control the slow slide of his cock.

He’ll not give him everything this first round. Gabriel is too keyed up and high-strung. He’ll wait until maybe the third orgasm - until Gabriel is come-dumb and pliant until he’ll fuck his sloppy hole.

He can see Gabriel’s muscles tensing as he tries to stem up - testing the sheer muscle force of Reinhardt, and smiles a little when the man starts to go boneless a second later, groaning and happy already.

“That’s it. Ohyeah. You’re a good boy for your Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	143. McCree/Reaper Centaur

“Are you…” Jesse stops, swallows excess saliva, rubs one hand across his mouth and scruffy chin. “Are you okay with this? Is this - is this okay?”

He slips closer on his knees, nervously eying Gabriel’s hind leg, curled towards his body almost daintily for such a huge creature, the hoof close enough to Jesse’s head to make his heart race - but not soften his cock.

His hand is around his dick, clutching it like a lifeline, almost strangling the poor thing. Gabriel is quiet, torso curled towards him as he braces himself with an elbow and watches the proceedings with an unreadable face.

He is capable of human speech, Jesse knows that for a fact, but as usual he prefers to let him suffer - just remains silent and watches with something akin to mild curiosity in the slant of his eyebrows, his forelegs tucked neatly towards his chest.

Gabriel is a gorgeous specimen, now that he’s allowed Jesse to actually groom him after weeks and months of getting closer in painfully small increments. The branding on his haunch and the scars on his torso and face telling his story well enough to make Jesse think it would be worth it to try and get closer to this one; make him hurt a little less by coaxing him into shelter and dressing his wounds.

He almost feels like he was taking advantage - if Gabriel weren’t so very capable of showing him exactly what he thought of something when he didn’t like it.

The centaur’s belly is large and warm and tight beneath Jesse’s trembling, petting hand. Close to winter as they were, his fur was thicker and longer than usual, allowing the blacksmith’s fingers to sink in, the tight curls of hair sliding across the digits. He smelled warm and musky and stupidly comforting. If he was in a good mood, he’d let Jesse lie on him, moving up and down with his slow, even breaths.

Jesse had no idea if he was in a good mood now, though. It was hard to say - his face said no (though Gabriel’s face always said no) but his legs curled up and helpfully out of the way, showing off the juicy thick sheath and the large, dark testicles between his strong thighs… oh those told another story altogether.

Gabriel’s belly was moving against Jesse’s sweaty palm in slow drags. He shifted every now and then, moving a little in the softly rustling hay - but only to get a better view of the happenings. The sight of his dark eyes intently watching Jesse inch his way towards his velvety looking crotch, thumb just about able to slowly slide along the tender space where the sheath met the warm belly, was doing… things to him.

Things that made his cock pulse in his clammy hand and pre-cum bead at the tip.

“Okay,” Jesse breathes, heart beating so hard it made him almost nauseous. He turns his head, wipes his wet mouth against his shoulder, and gets stuck in that position - head turned away, just about peeking at what he is doing, mesmerized by his own daring as he suddenly slides his hand over and on Gabriel’s sheath.

His mouth drops open a little then, breath hitching in his chest as his tingling fingers carefully close around the juicy girth, then squeeze a little.

“Okay,” he whispers again, thumb stroking, palm tingling. Gabriel’s sheath feels so velvety against his palm. Warm and soft, and thick where he is gripping it halfway down, and Jesse can feel his cock surge against his palm when he realizes that he is holding Gabriel’s cock right now. It’s in there.

He is touching Gabriel’s cock, squeezing it with a trembling, uneducated fist, and all the creature does is watch him silently, hind leg twitching but ultimately carefully still. Letting him touch.

A soft huff from the centaur has Jesse jerk away for just a second and glance up at his face, guilt churning in his belly - until he sees the dark flush on the creature’s cheekbones and the way his ears are tilted; backwards, yes, but not aggressively so (and Jesse knws by heart how Gabriel looks when he is pissed off. Oh yeah he fucking knows that thank you very much).

“You like that?” he asks, voice rough, hand returning to the sheath with a little less nerves and more curiosity. He squeezes again, carefully, brows furrowed as he watches the large belly. “I could… Y’know… if you want to? You could just uh l-let it out and I could…”

He glances up at Gabriel’s face once more. It’s flat again, Gabriel’s lips pressed into an unimpressed line. Jesse doesn’t know whether it’s because he doesn’t like the idea or because he doesn’t understand what Jesse is getting at and is pissed off at that.

Jesse takes a deep breath and nods to himself more than anything.

“Yeah alright. Okay. Wow, man, you got some nice… I mean - they’re really…”

He’s babbling as he slides his hand farther back the sheath, eyes fixed on the prize. He doesn’t know who is more surprised when he boldly palms the large, dark testicles. Gabriel grunts, hind leg twitching again, and when Jesse looks at him searchingly, he has slung both arms around one of his front legs and is hugging it towards his chest as if seeking comfort or a shield, his face flushed a darker red and his eyes wide.

Jesse’s hands seem to move on their own - much like his mouth usually does - stroking, squeezing, carefully palming the centaur’s balls and testing their weight before his fingers start tickling even further back, testing the warmth and feint give of Gabriel’s strong thighs until the stallion huffs again, decidedly skittish now as Jesse’s fingers begin inching their way towards the warm, silky space beneath his tail.

And god how much Jesse wants to touch Gabriel’s hole; the soft, dark skin; how perfect it would be at suckling a cock right in and cushion it warm and wet -

“Okay. Okay. No touching there. I got it,” he mumbles, hands sliding back towards the sheath again, face feeling stupidly hot. He can feel the scars of Gabriel’s rodeo stint on the thin, soft skin, but the centaur doesn’t seem to mind him touching them. He’s relaxed, clutching at his front leg, watching with rapt attention that looks surprisingly cute on his stern face.

“How about a little … quid pro quo?”

He feels stupid for asking it but as usual his mouth runs before his brain can catch up.

.o.

Jesse is not sure Gabriel has understood what he was trying to get at, and his belly feels fluttery and nervous now that he has his back turned towards the front of the centaur.

He feels like that is not a good idea. Gabriel’s front was even more murderous than his back. His arms were… well.

His arms were big and his thirst for revenge even bigger.

He couldn’t see any other way to make it work though; he has to practically sit astride the firm belly, freezing when Gabriel grunts softly at his weight. He had thought shortly about making him turn fully on his back, but he didn’t think Gabriel would go along with that piece of acrobatics.

So there’s no other way in his lust-addled brain to make it work - get his cock close enough to the warm, silky opening of the sheathe to carefully nudge… push… just - just carefully slip inside into what is -

“Fuck… Damn… oh G-God?”

He is hugging Gabriel’s curled-up hind leg and squeezing his eyes closely shut as he tries to breathe through the sensation. He thinks dimly it would have been better to jerk off once or twice beforehand. Take the edge off before he tried anything as this - getting his cock carefully engulfed in the velvety skin of Gabriel’s sheath, feeling how slick and smooth he was inside, and oh maybe he hasn’t been as unaffected by Jesse’s nervous groping as he had seemed.

There’s wet, slimy slick easing his way, and as he cups his hand around the sheath, he can feel it bulge around his cock, flaring as his hips stutter and shift closer, fucking deeper inside until there were tears of overstimulation burning in his eyes and his cock bumped against something else inside, big and firm and warm and -

“It’s your cock oh my god I’m fucking against your cock I can’t-”

His voice has climbed high and breathless. His ass cheeks clench as he ruts further forward. He can feel his cock inside the sheath and can feel the tightness of his hand from the outside around his dick and the sensation makes his balls almost hurt with the imminent need to just shoot.

“Not yet, not yet,” he whispers in a distressed mantra. He wants to fuck properly - fuck… fuck the sheath like a fleshlight with long, strong moves of his hips, but all he manages to do is rabbit fuck it fast and sloppy. He doesn’t have proper leverage with only one leg - he can probably be thankful that Gabriel elects to ignore the way the heel of his other leg is drumming against his flank every now and then… and if he was being really honest, he didn’t have the best track-record with stamina anyway.

He thinks of his fleshlight up in the main house; how similar and yet wholly underwhelming it would be now after this experience of fucking a real warm hole that was clinging to him like wet silk, the flat tip of Gabriel’s not-entirely-uninterested cock nudging against him again and again…

It is actually Gabriel’s soft little grunt from behind him that does him in, however - that, and the big warm hoofs that carefully slip around his waist in lieu of hands that can’t quite reach him where he is straddling the centaur’s belly.

He comes suddenly and messy with a wet gurgling sound as he chokes on his own tongue, making a mess out of Gabriel’s sheath as he fills it with human cum and gets it sloppy wet with it.

When he carefully slides off, face bright red and huffing, he just about catches sight of Gabriel’s unimpressed face as the centaur realized what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	144. McCree/Hanzo Age Difference

The kid had been sweet on him since they met a couple weeks ago.

Oh, he tried not to show it; was pouting through long meetings with his old pa, sitting next to him in a sharp suit and looking like a million bucks, but McCree had been long enough in the game to know when someone was interested. Especially someone as young as the Shimada heir, those dark dark eyes slanting towards him any chance he got, trying to look bored and just managing to look a little less than stupidly eager.

McCree had been also long enough in the game to know when to act on it and when to just… let it simmer. He’d been like that once, too; cock perpetually wet and half-hard, ready and more than eager to shoot off at the slightest show of interest. God but had he been horny and primed for it 24/7.

He could also see the appeal in it, if he were being honest; a rugged older guy, laid back, calm, seemingly knowing what he was doing (and damned was that a good bluff on his part). He’d probably fallen for it if he’d been like that little heir: pretty and prissy and trying to step out of his father’s shadow while being flanked by a flock of guards.

He definitely didn’t feel obligated to dissuade the young man.

McCree was a lot of things - a drunk and lazy bastard first and foremost - but he was definitely not stupid.

If the kid sneaked into his hotel room every night, outwitting his guards and bringing bottles of booze with him… he’d not be the one to rat him out to the old guy.

Oh no. Definitely not.

He could get used to it, really. That nervous, buzzing energy radiating off the young man when he tried for the umpteenth time to find a good opening to climb onto Jesse’s sturdy lap; when he got sloshed on the booze and became a needy, hot panting mess, lips wet and greedy as he wiped that quick-tempered mouth against the scruffy beard on Jesse’s jaw, fingers weakly fumbling at his shirt, then whining high and breathless and seemingly dumbfounded every single time when his knuckles pressed into McCree’s chest, broad and warm and sturdy as the rest of him, the hairs crinkling against his shirt until it tickled…

He liked making out with the kid. He was so… appreciative of McCree, quick, smart hands grabbing at him as he squirmed his way between the older man’s thighs, rutting against the warm, inviting V of them until he was moaning soft and wet against McCree’s lips, trying to keep up with the slow, hypnotic drag of his lips and utterly failing.

By the time he came, shuddering through his quick, overeager little orgasm and clutching at McCree’s shoulders, McCree would be nicely buzzed and half-hard, one leg curled around the back of Hanzo’s thigh and letting him ride it out nice and easy.

He’d had to teach him how to enjoy a kiss; stop him from the wet, needy press of small, suckling kisses to really appreciate the slow drag of a tongue and the rasp of a beard that got his chin and cheeks pink.

His voice was deep and gorgeous already, but he preferred to let Jesse talk. He gruffly ordered him to, even, pressing close and gazing at him from beneath dark eyelashes, his little come-hither look already perfected to an art.

He liked listening to Jesse’s lazy little compliments, to his inane babbling - became warm and affectionate for it - and Jesse couldn’t say that he minded too much. Jesse was, when it came down to it, a man that liked the sound of his own voice, after all.

He even got used to waking up with the little heir in his bed, and how crazy was that? Having that warm silky skin pressed up to him, a round, small ass snuggled tight into the crook of his hips. Hanzo most often than not was awake before him, and all he could think of why he would stay put and quiet was that he liked his low, deep snoring and the stiflingly hot, heavy blanket of his body against his back.

That, and - damn was he just greedy for Jesse’s cock. Tried every opportunity he got to tickle it to life; make it go big and hard for him to play with; and while Jesse usually was lazy enough not to get more than half-hard - just have the kid have a taste of it, let his obviously overactive imagination do the rest and watch him go glassy eyes and short-breathed…

… he definitely had to notice that today he woke up more… amorous than usual, cock already wetting through his shorts, pressing up fat and robust against Hanzo’s ass while the kid tried to wriggle as inconspicuously as possible down on it, his flush already pinkening up his naked shoulders.

And boy was he lucky to have such a sweet little piece of candy…

“Well hello there, babydoll,” he drawls right into Hanzo’s ear, voice so deep and rugged from sleep, he can physically feel it rumble from his chest. “You ready for some fun?”

He wonders whether Hanzo could even understand his early morning half-asleep slur, but the young man is nodding eagerly enough.

Well then…

.o.

Hanzo’s legs are silky soft, and almost make him reconsider and just fuck into the warm space between them, if he didn’t have the distinct feeling that if he didn’t follow up on his promise, the kid would probably rip his cock off and take it as a trophy for how enamored he seemed to be with it.

So he just groped him a bit, hand large and rough as he cupped his ass and his thigh and squeezed them something good while the young man squirmed in front of him and became breathless and eager.

Jesse’s brain was still half-asleep and only thinking in primitive, sluggish bursts, letting him now when the feeling-up has gone on long enough and he should move on to other things, so it took him a while to figure out why it was strange to feel all that warm, silky skin against his body, squirming and heated and basically vibrating with eagerness: Hanzo was naked.

“Aren’tchu cold?” he murmurs and sleepily hooks his chin over the kid’s shoulder to look down his body - slim and muscled and toned in all the ways McCree wasn’t… all topped with the sweetest little dick straining up between those lush thighs, head dark pink and wet, flexing even as he was staring down.

Goddamn the kid was eager. Made high-pitched little sounds right from his throat that he tried to keep down as much as possible, just from getting felt up; have one large hand on his ass, squeezing, testing the give of the muscles - the other meaty arm shoved beneath his head to sleepily grope his tits which were practically pushing themselves into McCree’s palm.

“You already prepped?” he rumbles, fingers dipping between the cheeks and encountering Hanzo’s hole wet and soft and holy shit had he been doing this the whole time? Sneaking off in the early morning to finger himself needily in the en-suite bathroom, hoping Jesse would finally give in and dick him good and proper?

He groans wordlessly and drawn-out - wipes his mouth sloppily against Hanzo’s shoulder in a lazy half-assed kiss - and slowly pushes two fingers at once in, the slide deep and smooth and intrusive, his fingers thicker than Hanzo’s, especially around the bulky knuckles which he presses firmly into the velvety walls of his channel just a few centimeters in - and wouldn’tcha know it that does the trick already.

Hanzo doesn’t make any sound at all as he comes, arms clamping in a chokehold around the arm McCree has around his chest. He can feel the kid’s mouth against his biceps - wide open, the edges of his teeth pressing uselessly against his flesh as if he had wanted to bite and just forgot how to half-way through. His sleek, pretty cock is jerking between his desperately clenching thighs, pulsing out thin ropes of cum.

Jesse remains still as Hanzo milks him, thinking it will be enough to have the digits inside him - big and unrelenting and deep.

It’s when he hears Hanzo take a deep, rattling breath that he moves; murmurs a nonchalant “We good now? Ready for the next?” and starts moving in slow thrusts, pushes into the buttery soft clench of the tender muscles and pulls out slowly just to feel their wet clutch, then slides in back again while pressing his fingers into the spongy, silky walls that promise to hug his cock so well he gets a bit dizzy with the thought of it.

Hanzo whines but doesn’t protest. He’s still holding onto Jesse’s arm for dear life but is moving his knees up a little, giving himself and the gunslinger a better angle - and coincidentally making the soft drape of his spent dick slip between them as well, the oversensitive tip dragging against McCree’s thick wrist every now and then, making the kid gasp and squirm.

“Oh sweetheart. Darlin’. Babydoll.” He’s slurring. He’s horny and his eyelids are heavy and it’s hard not to doze away with how warm the kid is against his chest, how well his little virgin ass is keeping his fingers snug and comfy.

And he might have dozed off, too - might have just closed his eyes for a tad, because the next second he has Hanzo’s sharp elbow in his side and he is snuffling awake with a low grunt and eyes blinking disoriented and blurry.

“‘m awake, ‘m awake,” he mumbles, carefully pulling out his fingers and pawing at his shorts while hugging Hanzo a little closer to him with his other arm, trying to make up for his little lapse - and also contain eventual more elbows - until he finally manages to push his shorts down far enough to get his cock out…

… and then no more containment is needed because the moment his cock slaps heavy and a little wet against the curve of Hanzo’s ass and the bottom of his thighs, the young man becomes very still, except for the low vibration throughout his whole body.

“That what you want?” McCree mumbles, a small self-satisfied smirk on his face. Hanzo makes a strange sound at that, then squirms until he can reach down with one arm and get a hand on his ass - pull at the cheek to open himself up… or maybe try and reach farther down and curl it around McCree’s cock, he is not entirely sure.

What he is sure about is that Hanzo is getting almost laughably desperate, grinding down and wriggling around and trying is goddamned hardest to make Jesse finally stuff him - and who is he to deny him the treat?

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Jesse soothes, croons, really, as he reaches down to grab his dick and give it a few lazy jerks, thumb pressing against the tip, knuckles brushing against Hanzo’s still messy cock in the process. He doesn’t think it’ll be soft for much longer - is almost sure it’ll come back to life as soon as he finally angles up enough to press the blunt tip of his cock against Hanzo’s opening; the wet little hole working furiously, mouthing at him, trying to pull him inside.

Goddamn but the kid was ridiculous in his eagerness.

“Calm down. I’ll give it to ya. There you go… There you…”

He forgets to finish the sentence, eyes falling closed again as he slowly works his hips, rocking, pushing, angling, making the soft muscles spread for the intrusion as he listens to Hanzo pant open mouthed, first quiet, then louder, then a little wheezing and bordering on panicked the wider he has to accommodate the thick tip of his cock.

Hanzo starts squirming the longer the initial push lasts; Jesse is taking his sweet ass time, hand still between their bodies, loosely curled around his cock, keeping it nice and steady as he rocks in. Every now and then his fingers will stretch and swipe the tips through the tacky mess of lube he pulled out with himself earlier earlier, rubbing it along the nervous clench of Hanzo’s rim and into the skin of his cock to easy the slip and slide some more.

When the thickest part of the glans finally pops in, he can feel Hanzo’s breath of relief. He turns his head and peeks at the side of the kid’s face, seeing how glassy his eyes were; wet with overstimulation, cheeks cherry red and mouth open wide to pull in enough air.

Jesse hums self satisfied and starts working his cock in for good, hips twisting, hunching, thick thighs tensing as he tries to cram his cock as gentle and patient as possible into the clutching orifice that had been so accommodating and eager when he fingered it earlier, but became less generous the deeper he fucked and made it stretch again around the fat girth of the middle of his hefty shaft.

Hanzo’s hands flew down, fingers claw-like in the meat of his thigh, his chest beneath Jesse’s restricting arm fluttering quick and bird like.

“Need a second?” Jesse asks lazily, hips still, cock pulsing and flexing within the warm channel. Hanzo nods, quick and sharp, body shuddering every now and then as his insides squeeze down on Jesse, obviously at war with simply accepting the enormous stretch and wanting to claw him open and make him go away.

He rides it out - almost falls fucking asleep again - as the kid drags up his nerves and finally unclenches his fingernails from Jesse’s leg and orders him with a shaky voice to “proceed”.

Even so - Jesse gathers up his arms, large hands around his wrists, and crosses them at his chest to keep him nice and compact and contained as he pushes in the rest of the way; making it quicker to reduce the panic he could practically taste bubbling in his young companion.

He grunts in relief when he is finally seated deep and snug, hips against Hanzo’s ass, feeling him squeeze and shiver all along the unrelenting girth of his cock.

Hanzo is making soft, fucked-out noises when he starts rocking; doesn’t even really fuck, just drags and slides a couple of centimeters along the warm clench and closes his eyes to sleepily enjoy the little piece of candy that has so willingly offered itself up for the better part of two weeks - and only a soft, high pitched “oh!” accompanied by the tight ripple of muscles against his cock alerts him to the fact that the young man came again, fast and sloppy and so easily primed for it that Jesse isn’t sure whether he’ll even get soft again before he’ll come a third time, speared on cock for the first time and obviously loving every second of it even if he’d been panicky in between.

He’s already taking it like a pro, now that the hardest part is over: is drooling happy and freely like a whore against Jesse’s biceps as he takes his cock, squeezing down lovingly every couple seconds as if making sure he was still there - was still spreading open his not-so-virgin hole, and was in the process of getting it sloppy and creamy with cum.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs sleepily into Hanzo’s ear, the shell hot against his lips. “And then you gonna sit next to your daddy and let it keep you nice and warm. And when we all have a break and grab somethin’ to eat, you’re gonna steal that nice piece of ass into the restrooms because I think I might want to have a looksee for myself whether you were a good boy and kept it just as I told you to.

And if you’ve been a good boy, I might just have another warm, frothy load for you tonight. Gonna have to keep you nice and stretched now, after all, right? Not have that sweet little hole forget what I taught it today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	145. Reaper/Lúcio, Reinhardt/Soldier76 AU of AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you write fic of dom lucio/sub Gabe meeting Reins sub Jack? Like Reinhardt figures it's his turn to show off his lovely sub now I just read your other fic and loved it! 10/10  
> (This is the rein/jack anon again) would it be possible for you to write Jack as trans? You don’t have to but being a trans man myself I headcanon him as trans as well because he’s a character I relate to alot.

Gabe was trying to hide his face against the outside of Lúcio’s knee without making it too obvious, and Reinhardt had to quietly smirk into his beard because of it. They were in Lúcio’s home - had consciously chosen to meet here in order to give Gabriel the home advantage and make him feel more at ease - yet the sub looked ill at ease and off kilter even kneeling next to Lúcio’s feet.

His head was half-turned away, dark eyes never leaving the people on the other side of the room. He looked flustered; like he was embarrassed to watch another pair play with each other, but was unwilling to actually stop staring. His big hand was curled around his own Master’s ankle, and Reinhardt could see it periodically clenching down when something especially interesting happened - like Jack sitting up a little straighter on command and pulling off his tight shirt.

Reinhardt had seen the grudging respect in Gabriel’s eyes when he’d introduced his companion - and now he could witness it again, staring at Jack’s abs as they get revealed. He is intent, dark eyes devouring the sub. Reinhardt wonders whether Jack can feel it - he is very sure he can’t see it, at least; the light is too dimmed for the sub’s weak eyes to make anything out that was outside their small radius.

When Jack pulls his shirt off his head, Reinhardt is watching Gabriel’s reaction.

He can see the minute backwards jerk of the sub’s head; how his shoulders tighten and eyebrows faintly furrow as he mulls over what he sees: Jack’s chest as broad and strong as Gabriel’s, with just a little bit more plushness to it. A little bit of softness that gives the pecs that extra amount of tantalizing bounce.

Reinhardt watches him lean a little forward, eyebrows furrowed. He looks curious and confused.

Reinhardt shifts his attention down to the man between his massive thighs and curls a large hand around Jack’s throat. He can feel the motion of his Adam’s apple against his palm as he first swallows, then sighs, eyes fluttering almost closed. He follows the pressure of Reinhardt’s hand easily and lets his head get tilted back until his cranium almost rests against his dominant’s crotch.

“Good boy,” he tells him. He takes care to pitch it loud enough for the other two to hear. “You like showing off, don’t you, my darling? Yes, I know. My pretty boy. Always so eager to get naked for others…”

There’s color starting to rise in Jack’s cheeks. He can feel the first tentative dregs of warmth against his fingers as the sub gets a little more into the action - lets himself get guided by Reinhardt’s voice and the restricting, safe confines of his thighs.

“Why don’t you show them the rest of you?”

Jack pants, the slit of his eyes looking bright and a little watery already. He is intimidated by the other submissive, Reinhardt can tell. Gabriel is a formidable sight - dark and foreboding. He doesn’t look homely or even anything approaching to friendly - not when he’s nervous like now, with another sub encroaching on his home, checking his dominant’s face with little hidden glances to make sure he isn’t unduly invested in Jack.

Well enough that Jack loved a little bit of fear with his plays; liked to feel helpless and exposed and as if he didn’t have control over what happened to him - what was made to him.

He kept his head back, even though it made it more difficult to get out of his pants, seemingly staring up at Reinhardt’s face.

.o.

Gabriel is squirming on his spot, watching the other sub fight to slide off his pants. He almost jerks away when Lúcio suddenly puts his hand against the nape of his neck, twisting and glancing up at his face for a moment to make sure everything was alright - it was - and then peeking back over at the other couple while Lúcio gently dug the blunt nail of his thumb against the base of his skull, then dragged it down towards the first knob of his vertebrae - and up again; a slow, seemingly thoughtless motion that made Gabriel hyperaware of his neck and the tingling at the base of his spine.

He is so invested in the feeling, mouth dropping open a little, head dipping forward, that it actually takes him by surprise when he realizes Jack is almost naked already - jeans down around his knees and in the process of getting kicked to the side.

Gabriel grunts softly, can’t hold the sound of confused surprise back when he sees the space between Jack’s thighs… and then his attention gets pulled away, Lúcio’s hand cupping beneath his jaw, tilting his head up and back not unlike the treatment the other submissive received from Reinhardt; and while Gabriel felt uneasy putting his vulnerable front on display like that, belly stretching long beneath his tight t-shirt, throat bobbing with a nervous swallow, he wouldn’t be outplayed by this other sub.

So he lets himself get dragged backwards, still hearing the other pair - how Reinhardt murmures praise, and accompanies his declaration of ‘And up you go’ with a soft grunt - and ignoring how his curiosity wants to make him look at what the others are doing in favor of earning himself a kiss from his dominant.

Warmth floods his chest and trickles down into his belly as Lúcio kisses him slow and lovely - only letting him sip at the tip of his tongue before he pulls back and smirks down at Gabriel’s flushed face.

“Oh, you’re easy today, are ya?” he whispers, fingers rubbing across Gabriel’s shorn scalp. “Look at you. You’re already starting to go down for me… What a good boy you are, Gabriel.”

Gabriel swears his chest is expanding at the praise, swelling and warm as he watches his dominant’s face and forgets for a second that there even are other people in the room with them. He can feel it himself; how he’s starting to go down fast and hard, and it is a little scary; enough so to make him whine and grimace, hand clenching around Lúcio’s ankle.

Lúcio coos at him, the hand beneath his jaw squeezing once firmly, then guides his head forward again with the other hand at the base of his skull, warm, secure, not giving Gabriel any room to balk as he’s getting made to watch the other pair.

Jack is sitting on Reinhardt’s lap, made to spread his legs on the thick thighs, the softness between his legs glistening and spreading around one of Reinhardt’s lazily petting fingers.

He stares, belly twisting nervously once more, some strange anxiety wanting to twist up into his chest until Lúcio leans down, lips close enough at his ear that he can feel his dominant’s goatee tickling his cheek.

“How about I do the same to you? Give you just the same treatment Jack is getting? Show them that you can be a sweet boy just as much as him…”

Gabriel whines, the need to be on his dominant’s lap suddenly so strong it makes breathing a little difficult. His eyes burn, fingers of one hand twisting into his sweatpants. God does he want to be on Lúcio’s lap; but looking at the other two, he isn’t sure this is a wise decision. Reinhardt is huge; can easily support the big sub on his thighs and still almost dwarf him.

Gabriel, on the other hand… he would look ridiculous on Lúcio’s knees. He wasn’t even sure whether Lúcio could-

“Stop worrying. You’re thinking too much, and I think I should be the one doing the thinking for us now. You’ll just be a sweet little sub and obey. Just as usual.” The hand cupping beneath Gabriel’s jaw moves, rubbing along his throat and coming to lay heavy and warm against Gabriel’s collar bones, mimicking a collar that Gabriel was too skittish to wear. The pressure feels good. Grounding. When Lúcio coaxes again: “Come on up, my good boy.” He follows without a hitch, crawling up onto Lúcio’s legs, his dominant’s lap warm and firm, no sign of Gabriel being too heavy for him.

“There you go. Look at you being so obedient. Following orders without a fuss. You don’t have to ask for a spanking to be able to snuggle on your dom’s lap, you know. We can do this whenever you want, Gabriel.”

His head was spinning, belly feeling hot and tight, limbs tingling. He was leaning forward, bracing himself against Lúcio’s knees and looked helplessly at the other pair; how Jack had curled his arms up around Reinhardt’s neck and was panting open mouthed and red faced as Reinhardt dragged his fingers through the mess between his thighs and then slipped farther back still.

As he watched, Reinhardt curled one hand beneath Jack’s knee, lifting it, making the sub’s abdomen slide forward, curling and showing off everything he had on offer - and how his dominant’s slickened fingertip was rounding the tender little opening of his ass. Jack whined, impressive muscles tensing all over, making Gabriel wonder how often he worked out to get a body like his.

(Making him wonder whether they could be friends outside of… this… outside of their dominants showing them off and playing with their bodies and making them submit to them sweetly and thoroughly until Gabriel would be happy to tell Lúcio left was right and up was down if only he would keep up making him feel good…)

“Oh… would you look at that,” Lúcio murmurs behind him, fingers playing with the hem of Gabriel’s tight shirt. “They’ve had a headstart. We need to follow suit, don’t you think? You gonna be my good boy and help me?”

Gabriel groaned, head falling back for a second and cock thickening eagerly before he started nodding, and helpfully raising his arms for his dominant to drag the shirt off of him…

.o.

Reinhardt feels almost drunk. Jack is so excited, he can smell him - and he wonders whether the other two can as well; whether the thick musk has actually filled the room just as much as he believed, that silky gash slick and hot working overtime as Reinhardt rounded the swollen nub at the top again and again, because he can’t get enough of the sight on the other side of the room.

Gabriel is naked and trembling, and drenched in sweat after the third time of getting made to almost come, muscles standing out sharply. He looks wild; like a mustang. Like he would claw at Lucio if he had to endure even one more faux orgasm; the almost release shivering through his body, his beautiful big cock so hard it almost stands on its own.

The tip is dark and generously wet from Lúcio playing with him, the clever dark eyes of the other dominant watching intently what Reinhardt does to his sub so he could mirror the movement: taking the fluid from the tip of Gabriel’s cock and swirling it round and round the sensitive glans until the sub is sobbing and angry and trying not to trash or slide off of his dominant’s lap, feet already hooked behind Lúcio’s ankles.

Jack seems to be just as much riled from Reinhardt playing with his body as simply listening to the other sub. He had twitched at the first low grunt Lúcio had had to almost rip from Gabriel until the sub started getting a bit more vocal, shyness eroding further with every almost orgasm; but now his head was up and alert, turned towards the sounds on the other side of the room, cheeks dark and eyes closed.

Reinhardt is sure he’d love nothing more than to be put onto the floor so he could crawl over, following his ears, mouth open and wet and ready for Gabriel’s cock… but he is just as sure that the other submissive wasn’t ready for that yet; would need to be coaxed and praised until he’d play with anybody but his dominant.

Jack was more used to the edging; oh, he had hated it at first - had even kicked at Reinhardt once, frustration pouring off of him in hot waves like a fever, belly clenching again and again with the phantom of imminent release. By now it was one of his favorite games. He liked making Reinhardt bear all of his weight, leaning back and riding out the sweet desperation.

He hooks his other hand beneath Jack’s arm, hand easily cupping the small tit, feeling just that bit of fat that Jack would never be able to get rid off without surgery, no matter how hard he trained - not that it was his goal at this point. He seemed content with where he was, and Reinhardt felt almost silly for how proud it made him.

He squeezes the firm pec, and Jack sighs - and just a moment later, there is an answering soft choke on the other side of the room as Lúcio mimicks the action. He looks smug, peeking over Gabriel’s shoulder; like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh you wanna play?” Reinhardt mumbles, low, not designed for Lúcio to hear as he curls his arm around Jack’s chest in preparation and to keep him secure as he rounds the painfully swollen nub one last time - gives it a little tap just to make Jack gurgle and have his hips twitch - then slips even lower, finger slick, rounding that tender opening he had touched earlier but ignored since then.

They know immediately when Lúcio takes up on it: Gabriel whines and jerks, needing an arm around his sturdy hips to keep him put. There is not much to be seen, the sub’s thighs not as desperately spread as Jack’s - which was a combination out of Reinhardt’s sheer size forcing them apart as well as the sub’s need to show himself; get his body offered on a silver platter for everybody to partake in, be it visual or by grabbing and sampling the goods. Gabriel, while being tolerant enough of the happenings, curiosity making him more loose and accepting of his open vulnerability, still seems a bit more shy - not as open to show off his gorgeous body yet, despite his dominant’s low crooning coaxing.

However, Lúcio’s hand between the strong thighs is telling enough; moving slow but with intent; spearing his sub on an innocent finger while Gabriel whines like he’s taking dick already, broad chest heaving and cock bouncing in front of him as it flexes.

None of the subs remain quiet after this. Jack howls like a dog as Reinhardt lovingly stuffs him, and Gabriel looks over with something akin to commiseration; like he can understand feels with the other sub getting made to take Reinhardt’s thick finger on nothing but the slick of his swollen, messy gash - and Reinhardt is not too proud to admit he likes the thought; is even going off on a small daydream of the subs comforting each other; exchanging sweet kisses as they are forced down on their dominant’s cocks…

“Good boy,” Reinhardt rasps, thumb swiping along Jack’s arm as he carefully, slowly works his finger deeper into that silky, clutching hole. Jack loves getting his ass played with; goes positively wild for it - but he isn’t used to getting stuffed on such little preparation, his throat bulging on a suppressed whine as he squirms and tries to get away as Reinhardt needs to keep him nice and fixed.

He can hear Lúcio crooning as well; low, sweet nothings as he works his finger, moving, angling until Gabriel shouts and a thick dribble of pre-cum slides down the side of his cock. His impressive thighs are shaking, tensing and untensing, knees shivering as they first try to close up entirely, then stay, uncertain, when Lúcio murmurs a soft denial… sway open, closed, then suddenly spread wide and lift, the sub trusting his whole weight to his dominant as he opens himself up for the slow, deep fingering and the soft burn of too little lubrication.

They whine in tandem, bodies held carefully still, letting their dominants play with them, fingering deep and intrusive and making their bodies pliant and hot around them.

“Can your boy come without hands?” Reinhardt asks breathless, laughter in his voice. It is bubbling in his throat, he can feel it tickling him, he feels delirious on his sub’s surrender, and when he glances over, Lúcio’s eyes look just as bright and a little crazy as he feels.

“He hasn’t done it yet,” he says, lips twitching into a grin, arm curling tighter around Gabriel’s waist. He almost looks like a kid hugging a big prize teddy. He doesn’t seem like he’ll be letting go of his submissive any time soon. “But he’ll try for me. He’s so primed and ready. Aren’t you?” He turns his head, lips pressing wet against the point of Gabriel’s jaw, mouthing his feverish questions against it. “Aren’t you? Primed for your orgasm? Ripe for it? Yeah… yeah you are… fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Perfect. You want to try for me, don’tcha? Gonna try and come without hands just for me? Like a good boy?”

Gabriel looks gone; his mouth hangs open, soft little breaths puffing from him as he squirms on Lúcio’s lap. He is nodding quick and mindless and Reinhardt wonders whether the boy even understood what was asked of him.

Jack doesn’t seem to fare any better in any case, teeth bared, jaw clenched - he looks almost angry as he fucks down on Reinhardt’s finger, body quaking, abs shivering with the strain…

When they come, they don’t make make a secret out of it. Reinhardt wonders whether the neighbors can hear them whining and shuddering through it, the tendons in their necks standing out harshly as their well earned orgasms take them.

Lúcio is crooning again, arm around Gabriel as the sub looks almost scared of the intensity of his release, coming like this for the first time, big hands scrabbling at his dominant and clutching at his arms, hips jerking, twitching, fucking into nothing as thick ropes of cum splash onto the floor before them - all the while Reinhardt holds Jack through his own orgasm, hand still between his jerking thighs, feeling the tight squeeze of his muscles milking him as the submissive seems to burn up on his lap.

They are kitten soft afterwards; even Gabriel moving slow and easy, limbs shaking as he lets Lúcio coax him onto the bed, the sweat cooling quickly and making him shiver until his dominant curls him up into a blanket.

He doesn’t so much as blink when Reinhardt leads Jack to lie next to him, the subs blinking at each other slow, sleepy, sated - and seemingly so confused, like they couldn’t quite wrap their heads around what happened; how they could be lying still in a bed when their bodies were buzzing and shivering and moving, hopped on euphoria. They look cute, next to each other; each in their little blanket burrito, wrapped tight enough to feel anchored and secure after the intense feeling of release after getting edged for the better part of an hour.

“They need to play with each other,” Reinhardt says slowly, big hand cupping the back of Jack’s head while his eyes stray to Gabriel’s face, then back to his submissive. “I need to see it.”

Lúcio nods solemnly, rubbing his submissive’s cheek and scratching his beard lovingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	146. Reaper/Zenyatta Dirty Talk

Zenyatta slides fingers through Gabriel’s curls, careful not to let the interlocking joints catch on the stubbornly clinging hair. He fluffs them up, then smooths them down, carefully combing them until they lie the way he wants them to.

Only when he is satisfied does he put his fingers beneath Gabriel’s chin, thumb lying heavy in the small groove beneath his bottom lip, dragging in a small caress over the graying hair of his beard.

“Up,” he murmurs, voice well modulated - built to please. Gabriel follows the gentle push a little too eagerly - the next second Zenyatta’s fingers pinch his chin more firmly and drag him down again. The omnic watches him quietly, not moving while Reaper’s dark eyes jerk across his faceplate, watching for some reaction even though he knows there can’t be one, and finally coming to a halt on the grid pattern on Zenyatta’s forehead - watching the slow dimming and brightening of the light there with an almost myopic gaze.

After a while, when the omnic has decided the height is a good one, Zenyatta’s other hand curls around one of his orbs, lying dormant and heavy in a circle around him.

He places it carefully atop Gabriel’s head, fingers letting loose of it slowly, making sure it would not roll from its nest of curls.

“Still, now,” he says softly, barely an admonishment, and for a moment it seems like Reaper even stops breathing, head up nice and high, carefully balancing Zenyatta’s intricately carved orb. Zenyatta can see the human’s ribs moving - little, soft pants expanding the broad chest as he tries to keep still enough not to shift the heavy trinket.

“Calm yourself. You will make it tumble down if you don’t center yourself.” Zenyatta’s thumb moves, pushing against Reaper’s scarred mouth until he opens it slightly, tongue cheekily flicking out to lick -

Zenyatta’s hand rushes out to catch the orb before it can roll from Gabriel’s head completely. The omnic’s voice box manufactures a soft, reprimanding click of a tongue he doesn’t possess, then pushes his thumb into Gabriel’s mouth to press down heavy and unmoving against his soft, warm tongue while simultaneously rearranging the orb once more.

“If you want to come,” he tells him patiently, as he fucks his thumb slowly between the submissive’s lips, the pad rubbing slow, smooth circles into Gabriel’s tongue to let him taste the metal, “then you need to do as you are told and not lose the orbs. Do you understand?”

He has recentered the heavy ball, arm slowly drawing away. Gabriel watches him with his dark eyes, a look of adoration on his slowly slackening face. He almost doesn’t dare to swallow, tongue lying placid for the omnic to play with.

Zenyatta hums and carefully pulls his hand away.

“Very well. The next one.”

He shifts, moving easily around the submissive. He looks like a show dog - on all fours, head up high and still, the impressive width of his chest sloping quickly into the plane of his hard belly. Time has forgotten this particular man - he still looks as formidable as he has in those old pictures Zenyatta has observed littered around the Gibraltar base.

“You are magnificent,” he tells him, voice an intimate murmur even though they were alone. He can see the way Gabriel’s ribs extend in a deep, careful inhale, but it is the only concession the submissive makes to how much the praise affects him.

That - and that lovely cock of his; dark and thick between his strong thighs, filling out a little more as Zenyatta watches, the wide head peeking out of the soft folds of his foreskin. Already, the omnic’s sensors can make out the glistening of pre-cum wetting all that velvety skin. Humans were so delightfully… messy. Their bodies so generous in showing their appreciation.

“Good boy.” He lets warm, smooth metal fingertips rub against the first knob of Gabriel’s spine, then slides them with gentle pressure along the dip of his spine. The man shudders, a strange choked-off noise coming from him - and for just a moment it seems like he might jerk his head and unseat the orb in its nest of curls, but he calms down just in time to relax again.

He deters a second when he’s at the submissive’s tailbone, fingers sliding into the cleft of his ass and tickling the warm, silky hole he finds there. Gabriel groans, then; voice deep and smoky, eyes probably unfocused as he stares ahead of himself and tries to remain calm, even when Zenyatta’s warm, smooth fingers start rubbing with more intent, the blunt tip of one beginning to wriggle its way inside.

“M-Master,” he says, indistinct, barely dares to move his jaw. Zenyatta hums, tranquil. Serene. He lets Gabriel’s muscles move for him: he doesn’t resist their suckling, needy pull, letting them drag his finger deeper in until the sweet muscle is mouthing at the first bulkier joint of his finger.

“I know,” Zenyatta answers low, synthetic voice full with feeling. “You need it, pretty boy. I know. Your body talks so loud for you.”

Reaper whines, throat vibrating with the sound, face crumbling as Zenyatta watches. He is biting his bottom lip, eyes starting to crunch shut. He’s nearly weeping just from the overwhelming need of getting filled.

“I won’t leave you empty,” the omnic promises, free hand rubbing along the sickly ashbrown of his back. “I will fill you up until you can’t take more. And then a little bit more still.”

Gabriel whines again, a little higher, fingers curling against the floor into unsteady fists. Zenyatta pushes in deeper, curls his finger - just gives him a little taste of pleasure to keep him at bay before out completely.

He ignores the soft sigh of disappointment, critically checks over the orb resting on Gabriel’s head, then takes another one and places it carefully high between the submissive’s shoulder blades.

Gabriel has less problems balancing this one, but it still ads more pressure on him: a little less freedom of movement, no careful rolling of the shoulders anymore, no nervous shifting.

“You are perfect. Just one more.”

Zenyatta grips His shoulder, then his bicep, squeezing and caressing in lieu of not being able to properly kiss - even his omnic kisses, small pulses of weak electricity, don’t seem appropriate now; not when Gabriel was struggling as it is, strangely keyed up from some discord within his soul.

He was so burdened, his poor boy. So many demons weighing him down that he wouldn’t even be able to tell what exactly was filling him with anxiety.

Zenyatta’s hand slides down, smooths across the plush cushion of his pec, mildly warns “Keep your head high”, then proceeds to tweak one of the small, sensitive nipples. Gabriel groans long and deep. His cock fills out a little more still, the veins at the sides starting to bulge as it bobs softly all on its own. Always so eager, sweetly asking for attention.

“Just one more. Good boy.”

Zenyatta squeezes the small nub once more between his fingers, the pressure carefully calculated by his systems, then pulls his hand away to grab the last orb.

“And up. Nice and slow… that’s it.” His voice is low, intimate, watching as Gabriel carefully, slowly arches his back, struggling to keep his head still and his shoulders even. There was sweat starting to break out along his hairline. His toes curled in and relaxed again, restless, nervous. He wanted to be good - didn’t want to lose any of the orbs already placed on him.

His hips are forming a sweet cup, ass angling towards the ceiling. He is presenting himself like a well trained pet, legs carefully spreading on instinct: he was showing off what he had to the room; offering his Master everything from the soft, heavy mound of his testicles to the tender gape of his hole.

“What a good boy you are tonight. You really want it badly, don’t you? A nice cock spreading you open? Get your belly warmed up? I know how horribly cold you always feel… I think I have just the thing for you, if you can stay still for me tonight. Just five minutes, I think. They will suffice, wouldn’t you say? Five minutes to show what a good, obedient boy you are, and then I’ll give you your treat.”

He rubs the back of Gabriel’s thigh, slides up and between them and cups the warm swell of his testicles. His cock is just about visible, silky head shoved out farther now, a pearl of liquid beading for a second before starting to drip down in a long, sticky string.

“Do you want to know what treat I have planned for you?”

He lets him feel the ball as he waits for an answer; slowly rolls it up and down the small of his back just to let him feel the electrical warmth of it radiating as omnic energy from deep within the intricately carved mechanism.

Zenyatta’s voice is still gentle; smooth and deep, well modulated as he promises Gabriel what was the world for this particular submissive: A nice, deep dicking, warm long cocks sliding in, making him submit, getting him to drool into the floor as he got mounted and fucked until his toes were tingling and his eyes burning.

“I will take you out into town,” Zenyatta tells him, speaking gentle like consoling a child. Gabriel’s eyes are heavy lidded and rolled to the side, trying to look at as much of his Dominant as possible without turning his head, mouth slowly falling open as he pushes carefully into the warm touch of the orb, heavy cock swaying back and forth between his thighs with the movement.

“I will take you into town,” the omnic repeats like a secret, “and lead you into a vehicle there. A nice, large car with enough room in the back for you to invite a lot of friends. All of them crawling in to the sight of you offering yourself up just as sweetly as you are now. Let them see how ready you are; how much you want it.

Some may want to test out your pretty mouth beforehand, but you will not mind. You’ll open for them just as sweetly as you always open for me. That clever little tongue doing just as they need; finding out just how you can be of service to them until they want to slip behind you; sample what else you have on offer. Maybe grab your lovely cock and give you a few strokes, though…”

He pauses here, deliberate, watches how Gabriel’s eyes have all but closed. He is drooling like an eager dog and Zenyatta supposed that in this moment, he was little more than an animal; a needy animal waiting for its Master’s praise.

“A little farther up,” he murmurs, tapping the orb against the small of Gabriel’s back as emphasize. The submissive takes a few seconds until he understands, then tilts a little further up still. For a second the orb on the crown of his head seems to wobble but then it settles again.

Zenyatta hums, then starts to carefully balances the last orb on Reaper’s tail bone, leaning it against the cleft of his ass to give it a place to rest. As he works, he takes up his earlier monologue, voice pitched a little deeper, aimed to go straight under the skin.

“I don’t think they will care much for your pleasure, though. They will be wondering when they see me in the corner. They will wonder what kind of little slut lets himself get whored out by an omnic.” Gabriel whines at the crude words spoken in the gentle words of his Master, and Zenyatta can see how the thin string of pre-cum thickens with the submissive’s mindless excitement.

“They’ll wonder how greedy for cock you’ll have to be to sink so low. Be the slave to a machine just to get a good, regular filling. Get your belly warmed up from the inside by their creamy loads until it all frothes around their cocks as they ream you nice and good.

They will wonder. And I don’t think they’ll wonder quietly, do you? I think they will be asking you. I think they’ll tell you in perfectly clear words what they think of you while they utilize your lovely body.

Maybe they will find the markers I will have placed carefully to the side; maybe they’ll have some creative little words and pictures to decorate you with.

Ahhh… I think… yes…”

He carefully pulls his hand away, watching the orb sit calm and centered where he placed it. Gabriel is stock still, eyes no longer closed. They are open wide, staring without focus ahead as he breathes slow, almost serene; a peculiar kind of peace having settled over him as he keeps nice and still, balancing his Master’s orbs along his body, letting the electric, pulsing warmth and their heaviness sink into him and center him as the gentle voice washes over and through him.

His cock is dark and needy, flexing between his strong thighs. Nobody has touched it, but the wetness is smeared all around the flared head. A pinpoint of painful need right there between his submissive’s lovely legs.

“You would love this, wouldn’t you?” Zenyatta asks kindly, one blunt finger sliding up and down the swollen shaft. Gabriel’s eyes grow heavy lidded again.

“Yes.”

“And you shall have it,” Zenyatta promises, ergonomically shaped hand gently curling around his submissive’s cock, holding it and squeezing it gently as if milking more pre-cum from it. “After you have completed your task.”

He carefully watches the orbs, makes sure they sit still and centered before he announces: “The five minutes begin now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	147. Reaper/Zenyatta Sexbot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written with robotfvckers.

Zenyatta has never been allowed on such a big scale mission before and he supposed it might be a sign that they were trusting him a little more after all, but the reality of the situation was that he still wore his correction collar and was assigned a superior which he had to follow while the mission lasted. 

 

Still, it had been…enjoyable for the duration, his every move carefully calculated to not upset his supervisor. The shocks of the collar were seldom enough to offline his systems but he was not tempted to try his fate.

He was tucked away in a corner of the ship’s hangar on their way back, sensors scanning his surroundings in short, exhausting intervals to keep the rest of the crew monitored. There was a certain kind of restlessness spreading throughout the ranks, fuelled by the mission’s success and the unexpected light-heartedness Genji brought to the table.

Zenyatta watched as the cyborg’s well-formed silhouette climbed along the ceiling like a spider, his scarf hanging low enough for some of the other agents to try and snatch at it. It was a stupid game, but one Zenyatta appreciated; it meant there was little time for the weird mood to grow into something more sinister and volatile. 

Still, he could feel the occasional glance thrown his way; sensors picking up on the hormones wafting into the air like smog, and his treacherous body…it responded.

He kept carefully still, the lights on his forehead dimmed, seemingly charging as he felt into his processes, the mechanisms of his new parts warming up and lubricating themselves a routine by now - one which he could not delete.

His body was only in name his, after all; so many programs installed to overwrite most of his own will, and only part of the violation he has experienced under Talon’s thumb.

He can feel his cunt throb, fans gently kicking in to filter in the hormone ridden air and cool him down at the same time. He could feel his synthetic clit swelling, systems telling him he was aroused already. Zenyatta kept his head low, staring at his feet; new as well, more detailed and made pretty to be aesthetically pleasing for the humans around him.

He bides his time until the ship touches carefully down on the ground.

There are protocols he must abide to, and they’re a blessing as much as a curse. While the rest of the agents file into the hangar, he stays to get inspected. His collar is scanned once more, making sure it sustained no damage throughout the fight. 

His internal systems get scanned made sure he hasn’t been hacked, and it feels even more of a violation than his forced bodily modifications. Still, when one of the two agents murmurs “Good cunt,” his pussy throbs as if eager for the compliment, and Zenyatta wonders whether the dark of his silky pants was already starting to wet through. 

He bolts the moment a grudging clear is given, and pretends he doesn’t feel the clumsy hand gripping for his wrist or hears the soft command to stay a little longer. Be a little sweet on the soldier after the big mission. There is enough noise going on in the hangar to make an accidental overhearing feasible; to not kick his new programs on that made him be a lapdog to Talon’s wishes.

Still, he feels followed as he makes his way through the area, quick and carefully twisting around waiting agents.

It’s dangerous to stay still for more than a few moments, but perhaps equally as such when he files out of the hangar and into the cramped hallway leading towards the dorms. It’s here where he is accosted most often, trying to reach the safety of the closet-sized room serving as his quarters. 

Hungry eyes. Hungry hands. Against the wall, sequestered into the locker room. Used. It hurts; there is no kindness to be found in this place, though his body aches for it. The greedy press of thick, rough fingers against his new parts, shoving inside with little care. Fucking him so hard he can’t adjust, not fully, swollen and needy with it when they fill him up all too soon, leaving him wanting. For what, he could not say. He used to fight against it, but the collar swiftly overwhelms his protocols, sending enough of him offline to reboot trapped beneath one talon operative or another.

The smell of humans, sweat, adrenaline, smoke and arousal intensifies, twisting his alien guts. The hallway splits up ahead, left towards the locker rooms and the right his own sanctuary. He quickens his pace, but the operatives are packed tight, start to notice the squirming bot as he weaves as inconspicuously as he can through the crowd. A hand brushes down his spine, another cups the swell of his ass, squeezing tight before he skirts out of reach. Zenyatta manages to quell the small sound threatening to escape him, processors reacting to stimuli so easily now. To others’ desires.

“Hey, don’t leave.” A voice grumbles from behind, nameless and unfamiliar. Zenyatta spots an opening along the wall, calculating the risks before he slips into the space. Putting himself at the wall could be dangerous. Every second that passes he expects the telltale jolt of his collar, and he thanks the Iris that no higher-ups with control have spotted him.

A hand locks around his wrist, huge and firm, yanking him backwards. Zenyatta bumps into two other operatives, who growl but continue on, uninterested in his plight. Someone tugs his hood, sensors adjusting to the added light as he’s exposed. Lips whisper at his neck, too warm and calloused. 

“Show me your cunt, omnic.” Someone says, hand slipping between his new, smooth thighs, cupping the swollen space between them. A burst of static escapes as pleasure signals pour through his processes. “I still remember how greedily you clenched around me. All that complaining, but you loved taking my cock, didn’t you, slut?” 

Zenyatta knows the voice, remembers the person, remembers, and the first trickle of slick pulses out of him, unbidden. He slams a bound foot down on the man’s boot, startling him enough to connect his metal elbow to his chin. The operative roars behind him, more eyes, more faces find him, and Zenyatta gives up all pretense and breaks into a stilted run, angling towards the first door he sees. He processes the hiss of the door sliding open, muffled by the rising din of the operatives behind him, their fingers skimming over his clothes, grasping and almost gripping him, yanking him back.

Zen is nearly inside when the first shock fires through his body, lightning quick and undeniable. His glitching fingers manage to hit the lock button before he pitches to the ground, voice box going haywire, pained little pops of noise as he twitches on the floor. The shocks disrupt everything, his body confused and sending back error signals by the handful. His cunt throbs, more slick than requested wetting the fabric of his pants, he tries to clench his thighs together but he can only squirm until the aftershocks pass. 

Seconds tick by, and he returns to himself. Hear the pounding of the door and the rustling of something else. Twitching, he drags his head up.

Two beings stare at him from a few feet away, locked in each other’s arms. He has never seen Genji without his faceplate on; nor his human face, pale and scarred with pink, kiss-swollen lips. The other wavers in his optics, dark ashen skin, red eyes. Large, white teeth, black facial hair. He doesn’t know this…humanoid, though the outfit is familiar. He’s still staring at the larger man’s lips when a long tongue darts out to wet them, his eyes drawing to half-mast. The smell of arousal spikes, and Zen moans, quiet but abrupt.

A litany of swears and abuse shake the door, rattling it on its frame.

“P-please.” Zenyatta bites out, voice popping, still recovering. “Claim me.”

The calculations had been done quick and precise despite the screaming of his sensors and his glitching visuals. Genji always has been… kinder, than the others. He, too, had cheeky wandering hands that liked to slip where they had no business of being, but their grasp was softer, well modulated—designed to make Zenyatta gush for him.

He was a prankster, but Zenyatta had yet to be part of his jokes.

He also was…half machine. Achingly familiar.

He did not know the other person, could barely make him out with his visual sensors resetting, but the decision seemed sound, his checks coming back green.

“Please,” he begs again, fingers curling against the floor as he sways on all fours but manages to stay upright. The pounding from behind vibrates through the ground and makes his sensors shiver, firing strange, confused signals all through his systems. His cunt pulses, swollen and ready, synthetic clit primed so much for intercourse it is practically vibrating.

“What are you doing here?” Genji sounds confused and mildly amused. Zenyatta feels arms curling around his shoulders as he’s getting pulled up, then finally his visual sensors come back online.

“It is obvious what he’s doing here, is it not?” 

The voice of the other man was sinuous and deep—and familiar, even if the dark figure was not. Reaper. Zenyatta had never even…

“The little whore is fleeing from a bunch of greedy cocks.”

Genji clicks his tongue, eyes roaming over Zenyatta’s form. He looks unfamiliar without his visor. Less mechanical and comforting, yet when he starts slowly pushing Zenyatta’s cloak from around his shoulders to better see his form, his cunt readies itself all the same.

“They are ready for the celebration,” the cyborg purrs. Zenyatta’s sensors pick up on the vibration of his voice, low and aroused. He can see the crimson tint to his lips. They had been… They had been kissing, standing close, grinding their bodies together…? He had been…

Zenyatta turns his head, looks around the room he stumbled into. It looks like someone’s quarters. When he focuses back forward, his systems spike with readings: Reaper is suddenly closer; close enough to see the blood red of his eyes.

“I’ve never had him,” he purrs, watching Zenyatta carefully. “Is he any good?”

“The men seem to think so,” Genji answers, and then adds with a certain kind of defiance, as if there weren’t still men banging at the door behind them: “I think he’s cute.”

“Do you now…” Reaper slides even closer, arm stretching, sharp talons barely scraping in the imitation of a caress along the side of Zenyatta’s faceplate.

“I have to admit…he interests me…”

Zenyatta presses forward into Genji’s touch, voice lowering into a well modulated murmur. “I will not forget your kindness, if you indulge me. Please, I—”

He sees the smile on Genji’s face—but also the impatient frown on Reaper’s, and he knows who he has to convince here.

“I need it so bad. Need your cocks, I… please.” He is not good at this; has not been equipped with any databanks on how to… to dirty talk, and he thinks it might just have been one more cruelty on top of so many: leaving him bumbling and foolish as he asks for his defilement.

Reaper snorts, sharp claws wandering beneath Zenyatta’s chin, making him tip his head back and expose the vital cables and metal making up his main energy conduit throughout his body.

“I will take care of the ruckus outside…and then I want to see what he can do.”

The pressure at his throat disappears. Zenyatta’s sensors flicker as Reaper softens suddenly, smoke where once stood a man, sweeping through his circuits in a strange, fluttering sensation, soft, whispering caresses. He shutters, body reacting to even that slight stimuli. Genji stares over his shoulder at the door, lips quirked, eyes alight with interest. The pounding stops, voices drop off, grow loud again. He hears Reaper talking, gravel rough. Then yelling, shuffling. The door groans as something heavy crashes into it. Screams.

“Hey.” Genji says, catching his attention again. This close, Zenyatta can see flecks of green in his dark eyes. Genji runs his hands along the cables of Zen’s neck, trailing his fingers along the pistons and down to his shoulders, brushing sensitive nodes. Zenyatta shakes, trying to stand still and chirping at the gentle touch. “We are going to take care of you.” He murmurs, lips catching against the edge of his gold faceplate.

Genji tugs slow and even at the drawstring holding Zen’s cloak, and it drops to the floor with a soft ripple. The man’s eyes covet the lines of his body, pupils growing large. Zen’s pants are flattened to his plating, slimy with slick. His modesty panel had been stripped from him with his upgrades, the swollen mound of his cunt outlined against the cut of fabric. Genji whistles low and sweet, cheeks darkening.

“Wow, you really are easy, aren’t you?” Genji doesn’t cup him like the others, rough and mean. A smooth, cybernetic finger trails down the top of his lower plating, touching his—

Zenyatta groans, startled, back hitting the door. Genji follows him, hand finding his swollen clit again, a small press, then slipping against the ruined fabric, lower, finger pressing lengthwise against the wetness between his legs. He says something in a language Zenyatta doesn’t understand, worries his lower lip.

“Sensitive.”

It grows quiet outside, and Genji licks his lips. He steps back as smoke billows in from beneath the door, licks the remnants of Zenyatta’s slick from his fingers while Zenyatta curls his own hands into the metal behind him, fasciated without knowing why.

Reaper reforms, seated on the bed, larger, his sensors report, than he was before. Eyes glowing bright, pulse strong and even. More alive. Genji follows him in short order, sitting astride him, curls his hand inside Reaper’s thigh, the cut of his muscles noticeable even through his clothes. Reaper stares Zenyatta down, eyes tracing his body as Genji’s had. His smirk is all smoke and teeth, practically purring when he says.

“What are waiting for? Strip.” Reaper adjusts, settling more comfortably. “We’re doing you a favor, after all.” 

Zenyatta jerks, light alignment flaring. He glances to Genji, whose hand trails closer to the front of Reaper’s pants, teasing and nimble, but he offers no help. 

“I…” He nods, numbly, hands struggling to unknot the ties that keep his loose pants in place. Reaper sighs, frustrated, the noise speeding Zen’s hands. Knots undone, he’s forced to peel the fabric down from his thighs, tacky with lubricant. He stumbles a little as he steps out of his pants, leg wrappings bound over the fabric. He can feel them staring, heart rates quickening, arousal elevated. Shame burns along his chassis, but he keeps his hands clenched at his sides, finally looking up. 

“Dios mio, come closer. Where did they even find a thing like you? Got you fitted with Numbani-grade parts but you don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

Zenyatta bristles, keens when a fresh line of slick spills down his legs, almost toppling him over. He finally stumbles to the foot of the bed, and even though he has to look down at them he feels small, helpless.

“Ah, what a cute color. Let us see.” Genji whispers, eyes staring at his groin, hand kneading at Reaper’s cock, the barest outline of it growing thick and noticeable beneath the fabric.

Zenyatta struggles to spread his legs and stand upright at the same time, quaking. Soft little hummed whimpers hiccup out of him. Why won’t they just touch him? 

“I still can’t see.” Genji pouts. “Spread it open with your hand.” Reaper leans back against Genji, pressing slightly into his touch, eyes never leaving the omnic.

Zenyatta splits his fore and middle fingers, slotting them against the teal lips of his pussy, and even that has him gasping softly, dragging in air he doesn’t need, pheromones in the room heightened. His fans whirr in the relative quiet. His pretty lips part beneath his hands, so silken soft and slick. His tilts his head down into the crook of his shoulder, ashamed, looking unwilling but he’s twitching and dripping more than he ever has. Why would they program him with shame and desire in equal parts, buzzing along every sensor?

Genji makes a soft sound of appreciation that hums along his sensors and makes new need shudder through his circuits. His clit is pulsing, feeling almost obnoxiously swollen and exposed between the V of his fingers. There is slick everywhere, stretching in glistening faintly teal-tinged strings between the soft fiber lips of his cunt, and—as they watch—dripping down towards the ground.

“Messy,” Reaper comments. It sounds simultaneously like praise and an insult, and Zenyatta can only produce a pathetic static crackle in response, his programs alighting his visuals like a Christmas tree with all kinds of information; from the body heat of his potential two lovers to the saturation of hormones in the air. 

It is hard to make out the important stuff in between—like Genji beckoning him closer and telling him to crawl onto the bed; show them from up close his “pretty holes”; Reaper’s added “Sloppy holes” low and rough as he grinds up more insistently into Genji’s hand.

Zenyatta’s movements are jerky as he crawls onto the mattress. He can feel the mechanisms of his cunt working: tightening up and expanding, getting ready to clutch silky and wet around anything that might be given to him.

Reaper and Genji are kissing while he adjusts his position, tries to wrangle his limbs to comply with what he wants.

It is languid and slow. His sensors pick up soft, wet suckling sounds as Reaper starts pressing his lips against the corner of Genji’s mouth and coaxes him to stop staring at Zenyatta and pay some attention to him. He feels on the verge of a shutdown as he watches them, the visual frizzing out every now as he sees Reaper dominate the kiss, clawed hand at Genji’s augmented jaw, keeping him in position but not meanly so.

His sensors pick up on the visual: make his clit thrum with the faux sensation of those warm, soft human lips on his sensors. His head falls back on a crackling, static moan—he is sitting and leaning back, legs spread…and hand already between his thighs again, opening himself up without having been told, but also closing again…and again…the sensation vaguely stimulating his clit and making his systems heat until his fans have to kick in and cool him down.

“Naughty little thing,” Genji purrs. He’s closer suddenly, perched like a tiger between Zenyatta’s legs, hands on his knees—keeping him open. “Are you just having fun for yourself? Touching your slutty cunt like that…So pretty, so…oh—what’s this?”

His voice is gentle, teasing, the insults sounding more like praise. Zenyatta, hand snatched away from his pussy, watches as Genji reaches out, blunt cybernetic fingertip moving, circling the small teal lined posterior hole. It is easy to slip inside, wriggling against the clinging, silky walls with the help of all of the slick that had started sliding down along Zenyatta’s chassis.

He chirps high and a little glitched as he feels the intrusion, body going stiff, carefully held still as Genji coos and fingers him.

“Such a sweet little hole you have back here…now why would they give that to you? You’re a proper little whore, aren’t you?”

Reaper is behind Genji, towering and dark, looking so impossibly thick after his short foray outside the room.

“Well now it is getting…interesting,” he purrs and slides around to come closer, get a look at their toy for the night. 

“He’s so soft inside. Damn. So small back here…I don’t think you’d even fit.”

Reaper snorts in derision, the sharp taloned glove vanishing in a plume of smoke as his thick arm reaches to where Genji is slowly fucking a slim cybernetic finger into Zenyatta and making his vision flicker. “Let me see…”

Zenyatta groans uncertainly, the sensations strange, electric. His hips stutter, and he bears down on the finger, earning him a small word of praise from Genji, who curls his digit, brushes against something inside that makes him thrash. Zenyatta hums, high and needy.

“Just need to be touched, don’t you?” Reaper whispers, fingers tracing the mesh skin between his plating, just circling that swollen teal nub. Zenyatta surges, trying to angle his hips to catch his fingers against it.

“P-please.” Zenyatta moans when one thick arm presses on the cables across his narrow hips, pinning him to the mattress.

“Such a demanding thing. Aren’t you supposed to be the one pleasuring us?” Reaper replies, still teasing around his folds, fingers skirting the pulsing, dripping slit, watching it clench as Genji slips a second finger into that smaller, lower hole.

Zenyatta wants to protest, feels stuffed, but his body recalibrates, adjusts to it, the slick burn of the intrusion eased and hot, firing pleasure up the cables at his spine. Close to something. Small runtime errors, processes bugging. His fingers twist into the sheets, struggling against the arm pinning him.

“Wh—something is…w-wait..!!” His synthesizer can’t make his words sound right, all other processes bogged down with reading and reacting to the pleasure firing through him. 

“I have watched the men take you before.” Genji says, eyes narrowed with lust. “Do you know what is about to happen?” He presses his fingers in deep, curling them, nearly too hard against that incredibly sensitive node inside him, making Zenyatta strain, snapping his hips to get more of it. The cyborg smiles, wicked and sharp. “You are about to come, Zenyatta. No one has ever touched you with a gentle hand.” He bites his lip. “I bet you could come just like this, from my fingers in your ass.” Genji groans, keyed up just at the thought of it.

“You sure like to hear yourself talk.” Reaper growls. “Why don’t you put that mouth to better use, cabrón?” Reaper takes his teasing hand and sinks his fingers around the back of Genji’s skull, pressing the cyborg’s face between Zenyatta’s legs.

Genji makes an undignified noise that bleeds into a moan when his lips smack into Zenyatta’s slit, warm and wet. His tongue darts out, eager and quick, tasting the teal mess, amazed by the buttery softness of it, the vague, near tasteless sweetness of him. Zenyatta shouts, hand clapping over his voice box to stifle the keens ripped from his throat. He hears himself begging in a mindless barrage of slurred, glitching words, his hand clamping on top of Reaper’s, wanting it, something peaking—

Genji finally, mercifully flicks his tongue across his clit, feels molten hot and wet and so good, then descends on it, moans vibrating against his most sensitive node, sucking around it in soft little pulls and Zenyatta’’s thrusting as much as he can and pressing Genji down.

His voice box offlines halfway through his screams as something rips through him, unbelievable and inescapable, sending all his protocols into chaos. His cunt clenches, pulsing out hot waves of slick, catching Genji’s chin, the line of his throat. Zenyatta’s whole body shakes with it, squeezes around the fingers still pistoning inside him. His sensory array shuts down for a few moments, and he hears Reaper’s rough “Oh, fuck” as he begins to recover.

His sensors pick up on the burned ozone in the air. He wonders what has short circuited inside his systems but he couldn’t start and try to run a check when the sight between his thighs makes him stutter and halt, a glitched little trilling sound, distinctly questioning chirping from his struggling voice box.

His programs slowly, haltingly start back up again, saturating the black and white feed he has almost reluctantly with color. Genji is still between his thighs, nose nearly brushing the mess of his cunt. Reaper has straddled one of his thighs to better get close, cock out of his hastily opened pants, broad hips rocking carefully to drag the thick shaft along Genji’s reverently opened mouth.

“He got me so messy,” the cyborg groans indistinct, lips mouthing at the veiny shaft, turning his head and smearing the slick Zenyatta had coated him with against Reaper’s cock. 

Zenyatta makes a soft sound, almost wondering, fingers curling against the bedding. His sensors are still prickling with the sensation that had him almost offline. His clit is pulsing still. Needy. Ripe. Another feed comes back online and suddenly he becomes aware of the cheeky tongue flicking against his folds every now and then, Genji turning his head, languidly suckling at his folds.

“Bet he comes even better on a nice cock,” Reaper growls, hips moving, fucking forward against Genji’s mouth before he probably gets fed up with the half-hearted blow job and Genji’s preoccupation with Zenyatta’s cunt. He grips a fist full of the cyborg’s hair, shoving his head to the side so he can slot himself in, hips moving, fucking, sliding the thick ash gray shaft along Zenyatta’s swollen, messy folds.

The omnic jerks, startled, hands fluttering down between his thighs seemingly uncertain of what to do before he settles on folding them across Reaper’s cock and pressing it against himself, letting him coat his shaft with slick while little sizzling spikes of pleasure shoot up his spine.

Reaper is massive between his thighs, large hands on Zenyatta’s knees, pressing them apart as he fucks languidly, almost as an afterthought. His armor is peeled apart enough that he can see the plane of his belly tensing and rippling whenever he curls his hips forward.

He seems happy enough to let Zenyatta cradle his dick and give him a tunnel to fuck into, but his words are amused and disparaging.

“Fuck, you are bad at this. Don’t even know how to handle a nice cock when you get one offered on a silver platter. What did those bastards do with you?”

Genji is close, his face peering around Reaper’s hips, cheeks tinted dark as he watches.

“Just laid him down and fucked into him,” he comments, voice rough—aroused, Zenyatta’s sensors tell him, and he makes a needy sound, face turning towards the cyborg. 

“Please,” he says, seemingly the only word that he was capable of anymore: mindlessly begging for them to…to please him. His fingers start curling a little, folding tighter around Reaper’s girth; assessing for the first time, wondering how it might feel…

“Pumped him full and left him dripping,” the cyborg continues like Zenyatta hadn’t said anything. “Even though he got so nice and hot for them. Frenzy little fuck on any cock that would come by…”

Genji’s eyes get glassy. He is moving a little, rocking, and Zenyatta thinks with a soft, startled noise that he’s fucking his cock against the bed; aroused by what is happening. He is suddenly pushing against Reaper’s hips, impatient, voice trembling.

“I wanna make him cum again. Fuck. He goddamn squirted, Gabriel…”

Reaper makes a soft disgusted sound. He seems reluctant but moves away all the same, laughing when Zenyatta chirps, body curling up and towards him, trying to keep a grasp on his cock. 

“Fast learner, are you? Gonna teach you to worship a cock properly, yet…On your knees.” Reaper says, strokes his own cock once, gritting his sharp teeth, watching Zenyatta struggle to turn over, the pool of slick on the bed catching his legs, smearing it everywhere. "Head down. Make yourself pretty.“ Zenyatta groans, presses his face into his forearms.

The words burn, cunt twitching at the filthiness of them. One of the worst things about his containment, Talon’s adaptive programming, new processes designed to destroy themselves at a human’s command. Someone inhales sharply, Genji, he assumes. He feels a line of wetness drip out of him, stretching until it plips into the sheets, joining the ruined mess there. Even at the lowest setting his sensors detect the intense, human smell in the air, of sex and sweat, heady and sweet. 

A sudden hot swipe at his cunt has Zen pitched forward, fingers twitching against the sheets. Tongue. Genji’s tongue, the reverent, fucked out moan makes it an easy guess. Genji surges forward, tongue dipping deep into his wet slit, and Zenyatta growls, wants more, shifts back against it.

"M-more.” He whispers, crackling.

“What’s that?” Reaper’s voice comes from his side, way closer than it should be. Zen tilts his head, another moan escaping. The man’s eyes are blown black, eyebrows drawn tight, always looking off-put, but there’s undeniable heat, like Zen is worth looking at, worth teasing and toying with, worth pleasuring. “Speak up.”

Genji’s tongue flattens inside him, a finger slipping in along with it, thrusting so shallowly, dipping in only to circle his folds again, being so gentle.

“More. Harder. Please—!” For the first time in his life, Zenyatta would ask for it and speak true. He wants them to fuck him.

Reaper’s fucking into his hand in fluid snaps of his scarred, muscled hips, pearls of precum bubbling from the tip of his throbbing cock. "Yeah, look at me.“ Zen half turns his body, face fully angled to stare along the lines of Reaper’s body, half-clothed but undeniably hot. He hesitates, tries to gather his thoughts enough to speak, fear spiking through him at his own gall.

"I—ah! Want to see you…” He almost buries his head again, afraid. He does look down, bristling when Reaper laughs, low and dark like smoke. 

“You got some balls for a omnic. Did I say you could look away? Look at me.” The bed shakes behind him, and loud, muffled moans join his own glitched chirrups. Genji rocking into the bed. Zenyatta stares at Reaper, captivated by the dark, ashen skin as it’s revealed; Genji works two more fingers in at once, tongue pulling out with a thick pop before it dips into his posterior hole, licking it open so easily. He’s speaking, babbling against Zenyatta’s holes, broken and quick. It doesn’t sound like english.

“Heh, you two aren’t so different. Look how slutty he gets.” Reaper grunts, peeling out of the last of his armor, hand returning to his dripping cock and working it just behind the glans. Reaper moans, closing his eyes once before refocusing on Zen’s face, head tilting.

“I wonder…” Zenyatta nearly jerks at the even press of hands cupping his head, feeling another orgasm sizzling along his plating. Something clicks, depressurizes, and the lower panels of his faceplate shifts up. New processes register, sensation blooming beneath his array, coming online. “Hah, I can’t believe it. Oh, fuck, they really didn’t spare any cost, did they?”

Zenyatta opens his mouth for the first time, the feeling so alien he can’t register his readings.

“They even installed skin-mesh around it.” Reaper whistles low. Rough, calloused fingers stroke along the metallic-colored mesh and the smooth, matching lips. Zenyatta reacts to the stimuli, mouth twitching into a small o, learning how to move it. Then the finger, a thumb, dips inside, new sensation. Salty. Bitter. Zenyatta flinches, reels back, but Reaper holds his face gently in his grip.

“T-too much. What is—” Zenyatta’s lips don’t match his words, still warbling from his voice box instead, seemingly detached from one another. His whole body trembles, pleasure lessening somewhat as Genji drags his tongue away to look at them both, fingers still scissoring inside him.

A litany of swears spills from the cyborg as he watches Reaper’s fingers circling Zenyatta’s mouth, wettened by the same slick coating his own lips.

“Kuso. I need to see this.”

Genji’s fingers slide out of the warm, welcoming grip of Zenyatta’s cunt with a wet slide, gooey slick stretching between fingertips and plump folds until the strings break. The opening gapes open soft and inviting for just a moment before the mechanisms make it close up under the cyborg’s heated gaze—getting everything nice and snug once more.

“Goddamn, but you have pretty holes,” he purrs, crawling around the trembling Omnic to kneel at the head and see for himself.

Zenyatta looks at the both of them helplessly, the new program that flickered to life forcing all the other ones to adjust and recalibrate. He hadn’t even…he hadn’t known…

He can feel Reaper’s thumb rubbing along the carefully blunted tops of even teeth, pressing down on them and feeling the minimal give of the synthetic fabric—all for the pleasure of his users.

“Look at this. Even gave him a pretty little tongue,” Reaper purrs, reaching in with two thick fingers and easily fishing out Zenyatta’s tongue: segmented in small parts to allow articulated movement and glowing a soft teal. It’s slimy like the rest of his holes and when Reaper squishes it gently between his pinching fingers, they can watch more slick well up from between the segments.

Genji’s mouth hangs open, hand around his synthetic cock, strangling it within the grip of his fist.

“That’s…incredible… I’ve never seen…I didn’t even know there was…”

Reaper seems to perk up at that, letting go of Zenyatta’s tongue to negligently wipe the excess slick against his cheek.

“So you haven’t seen anybody using that yet?”

Zenyatta’s fingers twist into the bedding, clawing at it as he tries to understand all the readings popping up in his peripheral vision. He knows his tongue is still out, obediently stretched across his lower lip, showing it to his two play mates, but he couldn’t make himself close it up. 

He was moving his…his jaw and even those new sensations, moving little joints he hadn’t even known existed, had him shuddering, everything getting translated to good yes thank you.

“Look at him. He’s helpless like a babe,” Reaper purrs. His large hand cups the back of Zenyatta’s cranium. He lifts up unto his knees, bringing his hips closer to the Omnic and starts rubbing the blunt tip of his cock against the soft mesh that made up Zenyatta’s cheek, slipping again and again against the very corner of his mouth but not slipping inside.

Zenyatta chirps, the sound embarrassingly like one of those ancient modems as his new mouth eagerly fills with slick—a little thinner than the one from his cunt but not less eager.

“That’s it. You want my cock, don’t you? Messy little bitch…”

Zenyatta angles forward, body posed on the precarious edge of toppling over, jaw opening a bit wider, needy. Pleading. 

Reaper’s cock moves at that, presses into the little soft groove beneath his lower lip.

“He is pretty, though,” he concedes with a low rumble of his voice, the wet tip of his cock sliding along Zenyatta’s lower lip like a thumb, sensors telling the omnic about the saltiness in the fluid he leaves on the grey mesh, tacky and new.

“Pretty little holes to teach…just for us…”

He dips the tip of his cock in, then, under Genji’s watchful eye, just testing the waters and breathing out heavily through his nostrils in lieu of a low, needy groan.

“That’s it…now open up nice and wide…never got a big dick like this one, hm? Gonna break your new cunt in with style, little whore.”

Surprisingly warm and soft, salt and musk joins the other overloading sensations as Reaper pushes inside his mouth. Zenyatta’s moans vibrates up the black column of his throat, mouth quaking around Reaper’s cock. Slick drools past his lips and rolls down his chin. Genji watches, fascinated, as Reaper’s dick disappears inch by inch without resistance.

Zenyatta’s mouth doesn’t feel like his other holes, less sensitive, though he is feeling something, sparks of pressure, tasting, mouthing, recording Reaper’s expression as he catches his growls behind frowning lips.

Reaper tsks, hard and low, Zenyatta’s hands grappling at his hips as he fucks into his throat. The man rolls his shoulders, withdraws though Zenyatta tries to follow his dick as it leaves his mouth. 

“You’re terrible at this.” He plucks one of Zenyatta’s hands from where it’s clamped around his body and pulls it to his own lips, sucking the two longest fingers into his mouth. Zenyatta groans, enraptured as Raper hollows his cheeks, tongue swirling around them, dipping into the sensitive divots where fingers connect to palm.

Genji watches, nippling at the pistons at Zenyatta’s throat, hands unable to stay still. Caressing the small, delicate cables, following the rows of red down his spine. He teases his fingers at Zenyatta’s ass, but his eyes are all on Reaper, breathing so loudly against the side of Zenyatta’s head as he watches his boss suck, beard growing damp from the sloppiness of it. Reaper dips his chin to stare down the line of his body, tugging Zen’s fingers out of his mouth roughly. 

“Do it like that. It’s not hard.” The omnic’s hands shakily return to the man’s hips when he tilts his head up again, presents his mouth, teal and pretty, tongue held flat and soft. Reaper shuffles forward again, angling his dick down by gripping its base, just pressing it to Zenyatta’s tongue, gauging his reactions. Genji’s fingers speed up in time with his own hand against his segmented cock.

“Zenyatta, hurry.” Genji bites out, his dick smacking wetly against the omnic’s thin waist between a thick cable and his softer, dark middle, whimpering. Zenyatta feels his precum smearing all over him, wonders vaguely if he would ever be able to get properly clean after this, would go around knowing he smelled like Genji and Reaper.

His lips wrap shakily around the head of Reaper’s cock, swirling, suckling once it’s deep enough. His tongue slides beneath the silken foreskin, peeling it back from the reddened cockhead; Reaper groans, swears biting out of him like it hurts, but the hand on his head presses him down deeper.

“Suck.” 

Zenyatta does, hollowing his cheeks, tongue mapping the underside as it pushes past it, knocks against his palate and smooth teeth. His array dims as his face hits the hard, clenching swell of Reaper’s stomach, voice box stuttering, not from the intrusion, but the pulse of pleasure. 

It feels amazing, clenching against the throbbing dick in his throat. His hands at Reaper’s hips tighten, and Zenyatta pulls back an inch before burying his face again into the overwhelming, heady smell of Reaper’s pubic hair. Reaper’s dick slides over something inside that makes his whole body shiver. Reaper can feels his balls draw tight, the knowing pressure building low in his gut.

“Gonna give you what you need. Fill this slutty hole up.” Reaper growls, rabbit-fucking the omnic’s dripping mouth when he won’t give him more than a few inches to pull back. "So hungry for it. Fuck. Even if you’re bad, a hole is a hole, right?“ 

He grows annoyed with the omnic’s attempt to control his thrusts, but chuckles at Zenyatta’s needy synthetic noises when he forces the omnic’s head back. He revels in the long, slick drag of his cock drawn between those lips at the pace he allows, slow and breath-taking, grasping the back of Zenyatta’s head to keep him from holding it in so deeply, from his throat constricting and massaging every inch. 

"Genji, are you gonna come like a schoolboy humping his stomach? Get it together.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying…Fuck…” 

Zenyatta can feel Genji’s fingers clumsy and eager, touching against his back, sliding along delicate little cables and gripping gold capped pistons. It is distracting; almost like he’s getting pet. Soft sensations that don’t quite touch any sensors but are tantalizingly just out of reach. They make him tremble, cunt clenching and clit primed for more.

He wants…

“Suck, pretty little whore.” Reaper’s voice is low, an intimate purr. He slides deep into Zenyatta’s artificial mouth, the slide slick and squelching as the fat cock forces artificial saliva to bubble from the stretched mesh corners of Zenyatta’s mouth. 

They are both surprised when suddenly a new program kicks on, Zenyatta’s systems calibrated enough to start reaching for the more sophisticated functions, and a little pump springs on, starting to pump air out and creating a gently suckling vacuum.

Reaper’s hips hitch, a startled swear falling from his lips. Zenyatta can feel his cock swell against the sensors of his tongue, a generous squirt of pre-cum shooting down his throat.

“Genji,” Reaper growls, hoarse, huge hands scrabbling at the back of Zenyatta’s head and threatening to unplug some of the thicker wires in his effort to get a good grip on him as he rocks into the suckling, wet vacuum.

“Either you get your cock in him now or you’ll have to deal with the sloppy whore afterwards.”

Zenyatta loses a bit of time, then, because Reaper pulls back, extricating himself from the snug, welcoming vacuum and producing a lush, filthy sound as he breaks the suckling seal of Zenyatta’s lips. Immediately, warnings beep up along his visual, body seizing as he is less than absolutely filled to the brim (oh how naive he was…) and distorted, frantic pleas slip from his voice box as he surges forward, mouth open and ready, slick dripping from him as he mouths at the fat cock and tries to get it back.

Reaper laughs at him. Ridicules him—but gives him back his treat all the same, slow and steady and at odds with the sharp sudden fullness of his cunt as he’s getting spread so fast, his mechanisms whirr embarrassingly loud to adjust to the smooth intrusion.

He pulls back, turns his head half around, the corner of his mouth getting stretched with cock as he tries to peer behind, voice box warbling in the most basic omnic chirps and clicks, questioning and confused.

“Oh no. You stay here. Give me your mouth, slut.” Reaper forces his head back and ruts into his mouth while Genji still seems to breathe through sinking into the lush, slick of a warm, synthetic cunt.

“Shit… I don’t know if I can…hold on for long…” He pulls back and carefully, slowly pushes back in. Zenyatta can’t see the pinched look on his scarred face, the way his eyebrows are pulled together in genuine distress.

He is preoccupied with trying to regulate his programs which are going haywire— having to regulate two mechanisms at the same time suddenly and only managing a spastic, nervous vibration along Reaper’s cock.

“Goddamn fuckin’—hold on, then. Don’t you dare come before I tell you. Fuck, he’s getting better with a dick in his sloppy cunt. It’s…”

He doesn’t say more. He is baring his teeth and growling, hips rutting, large hands cradling Zenyatta’s head as he starts for the first time to slowly fuck him, really use his mouth with just a couple of inches of fat cock.

Reaper snaps his hips, each quick pistoning forcing more sounds from Zenyatta’s throat, suctioning when he can, noises obscene when Reaper withdraws enough to let the vacuum break. 

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of that. Disgusting.” Reaper murmurs, tinged with desperation. His hand scrambles to grip the omnic’s throat, forcing Zenyatta’s back into a graceful, painful arc that Zenyatta’s arms tremble to support.

Genji’s eyes flit between his dick disappearing inside that sopping slit, Zenyatta’s smaller hole clenching tiny and teal, and the omnic’s mouth being used to its fullest capacity. His own metal hands grasp Zenyatta’s waist, angle forward faster, unable to pace himself. Zenyatta’s cunt recalibrates, sucking, tight and wet and perfect, like Zenyatta’s made for him.

“You should’ve come to us sooner…Hah, you’re incredible.” Genji doubles over, mouthing at the thick cables at his neck, wishing he could mark it up, let everyone know that they owned him. “No one’s gonna touch you. You’re our little whore.” The cyborg babbles, hands grasping his waist brutally as he fucks so hard it nearly hurts. “K-kill anyone that dares.”

Zenyatta sobs, clicks and whirring and fans at full power but it’s not enough. He feels hot to the touch, warning signals firing, each node and sensor overloaded. He wants to warn them, afraid again, can he have this, will they let him. His clicks and hums break high and screeching, jerking between them, deeper, deeper, more he wants to say it but he can’t make the words form. It’s good, he's—

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking—cum, you little slut.” Reaper growls, and Zenyatta shorts all at once, cunt and throat spasming, system errors, glitching and powering down, everything jerking and twitching with misfires. He depressurizes so hard he feels broken, splattering around Genji’s throbbing cock, coating his groin and thighs.

Zenyatta can’t see, can’t sense, only feels the pulses of overloaded nodes in his throat and between his legs. Reaper holds him up as his arms collapse, unable to support his weight. The suction in his throat draws too tight, malfunctioning, and Reaper roars, swearing harsh and guttural, filling him to the brim. His throat is too shallow to hold everything in, and it bubbles and spills, joining the lube and slick dripping down his chin and throat, coating Reaper’s hand that’s clutching it.

Genji keens behind him, and he feels the hot gush flood him, the men clutching him in place while he shuts down between them, each rocking into him with rhythmless abandon. He thinks he’s begging, trying to beg, synthetic chirrups, too much, as they milk themselves into him, only aware of the immediate stimulation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	148. McCree/Reaper Cock Warming

Reaper is lurking in the shadows when McCree stumbles out of the back of the bar to take a piss. He watches him fumble out his cock and listens his sigh as he lets go of the pressure on his bladder.

Jesse’s voice is deeper than it had been years ago. There’s a smoky rasp to it. Reaper feels smoke tendrils curl towards him, stretching, only centimeters from touching the sweaty nape of his neck - then he quickly snatches them away and retreats back into the farthest, darkest corner as he watches Jesse pack back up and turn around. He sways a little on his heel. His face is half hidden in the shadow of his hat and his jaw looks slack.

The boy looks… defeated. Almost blackout drunk.

Reaper follows him as he makes his unsteady way through the streets.

.o.

Reaper can’t keep his smoke from caressing McCree’s face anymore. The room is dark and stinks of alcohol and sweat. Jesse collapsed on the bed, the heavy gun belt still strapped around his hips.

They look sturdier than they had when he’d still been in Blackwatch. He had filled out over the course of his stay there, but still it couldn’t compare to the build he had now.

He had a huge barrel chest and thick biceps and thighs. He looked both better and worse than ever.

Reaper touches his face, cups his shallow cheeks with gentle tendrils and pushes the brim of his hat up with another pair until he can see McCree’s bruised looking eyelids.

Reaper slides closer, slips astride him in a whispering move. He tests the waters like this - gauges how well Jesse’s strong hips feel between his thighs.

When he leans down and nuzzles his masked face against the wild growth of his beard, Jesse hums and turns into the touch. His arms lift and he weakly, drunkenly clutches Reaper to his chest.

Reaper indulges him - indulges himself - for a moment, staying close, breathing in his scent of stale sweat and beer, then moves his hips. A slow downwards grind. Even through both their clothes he can feel McCree’s cock, fat and soft. Girthy.

“Jesse…” Reaper breathes, ass lifting and sinking down slow and measured. There is no rush; he doesn’t need to take it by force. Jesse hums, his voice deep and a little rough. Whiskey warm.

His embrace loosens for a moment, arms sliding down - and Reaper already fears he might have fallen asleep fully - but then his big hands curl around his biceps and squeeze gently.

Always gentle, this one. A big, feral looking bear that just wanted hugs. It had always been like that. 

Jesse was a cuddler. A lover.

“Commander,” he sighs. Reaper halts at that for a moment, stares at the serene face, then decides Jesse had to be in his own little alcohol induced dream.

“Yes,” he whispers back, hips still moving, slow, measured, dragging his dick across the bulge of McCree’s cock.

Jesse doesn’t say any more, so Reaper moves; slides down and nestles between those long, sturdy legs.

He wonders how much Jesse actually realizes is happening; how much his alcohol addled brain keeps up with everything.

He does start fussing and whining when the heavy weight of another body leaves him, but smoke teasing his lips and slipping into his mouth to toy with his tongue is enough to occupy him.

His cock is mouth watering, even soft as it was now. Reaper slides his mask up, just enough to free his mouth. He can feel himself almost drooling as he tilts his head down and takes a deep breath of the wild tangle of hair at the base of McCree’s cock.

God, he was a wreck. What had he been doing all those years away from Overwatch? Blackwatch? Him?

He looked like he was barely keeping it together as it was.

He made soft noises, little choking sounds as Reaper’s smoky tendril lovingly petted his tongue. His large, gloved hands flailed, then found their way down, fisting in Reaper’s cowl.

Still, his cock stayed soft; even when Reaper stuffed the meaty girth of it into his mouth, nearly choking and not giving a fuck about it. Tears shot to his eyes but he forced himself to slip closer, take more into his mouth, to the very back of his throat, filling himself with Jesse’s thick taste and smell.

Jesse fussed around a bit, knees lifting, then lowering, hands faintly pulling on the cowl - but his dick stayed soft. Goddamn alcohol.

Reaper’s smoke shifted, billowing, slipping across Jesse and pressing him down like a lover just to feel him. To experience him.

He snuggled his face against one thick, muscled thigh and sighed through his nose. ghostly silvery tear tracks slipped from beneath his mask and he couldn’t say whether it was from sad nostalgia or himself choking on Jesse’s cock.

Jesse settled down. Sighed - his large chest rising mightily beneath the armor he still wore. He sounded satisfied and content. Moments later he began snoring, hands still fisting Reaper’s cowl.

Reaper wondered what he would think in the morning. Would he remember anything of tonight?

He closed his eyes and suckled, nursing, grinding his cock slow and lazy against the mattress. He didn’t think he wanted to get off tonight. He just wanted to feel.

.o.  
He must have fallen asleep.

The room is lighter than it had been a second before. He blinked slowly, owlishly, and watched the large hand coming towards his face, fingertips sliding against his cheekbone.

He gasps softly - lips making a little wet smack as he dislodges from the warm, chubby cock rubbing along his tongue - and then looks up. Jesse still has one arm up, hand at the small lamp on his rickety side table.

His other is rubbing Reaper’s cheek slowly, hypnotically, dark eyes watching Reaper’s slack, confused face.

“What a pretty sight,” the cowboy mumbles. He still looks half drunk, but a lot more attentive than earlier. Reaper feels stupidly trapped; chin nudging against Jesse’s cock - still wet from his mouth.

Jesse cups his face, rubs a thumb along his lips, and slowly Reaper realizes he has taken his mask away.

“Am I hallucinating?” McCree asks, voice rough and deep, fingers dipping to rub beneath Reaper’s chin as if he were a kitten. Reaper can’t help the shudder - or the way he angles his head to better receive the contact. “Why don’t you come up here…?”

This was surreal.

He slowly drags himself up Jesse’s body. Up close, he can see how wet those dark brown eyes were. He gasps when he is suddenly snatched up in thick arms and crushed towards the armored chest.

“Fuck. Am I dying? ‘M I lying in some ditch with alcohol poisoning? I can’t…”

Reaper sighs and closes his eyes, forehead pressing against Jesse’s cheek.

“No. Everything is… ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	149. Reaper/Reinhardt Prostate Milking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinheart cuddling Reaper through a bad pain day idc how or why just give that dead boi some tender lovin'

“I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t!”

Reaper throws his head back, jaw clenched so tight Reinhardt can hear the impressive sharp teeth gnashing and grinding. He is vibrating in his arms, between his thighs, but not in a good way. The lovely fat cock in Reinhardt’s fist quickly lost interest as the pain roiled visibly beneath Reaper’s skin, making it ripple and twist.

Reinhardt could hear the faint pop of bones and pulled in a deep, rattling breath.

“Okay. Okay. Yes, okay.” He rubs his cheek against the side of Reaper’s face, large hand still holding on to the softening cock, thumb soothingly rubbing down the plump length and up to the tip, playing with the loose foreskin while Reaper writhes and growls and rips sharp, shadowy claws into the mattress.

“I know it hurts,” Reinhardt murmurs - and then blinks as pain blooms out from his cheekbone where Reaper headbutted him as best as he could, his eyes glimming hateful like hot coal.

“You know shit, old man,” he snarls. Reinhardt ignores the animosity and starts rubbing a wide, warm palm across the shivering plane of Reaper’s belly.

“I have another idea,” he tells him easily. Reaper starts squirming and making noise about not wanting to try this anymore and just crawling into the shower to die, but he doesn’t move out of Reinhardt’s embrace, so he figures it’s okay to reach over and get more lube from the bottle; make everything silky and slick for what he has in mind.

.o.

It seems to work better.

Reaper is not fully hard, his cock lying heavy and chubby in the crease of his thigh - but he doesn’t need it for this anyway. His legs are hooked over Reinhardt’s knees, body convulsing - sometimes in pain, more times in nervous, shuddery lust - as he gets fingered slow and intimate, the thick finger rubbing lovingly against his silky, clenching walls.

The first time Reinhardt flirts with his prostate, the blunt large fingertip carefully circling it without touching, he cries out and becomes perfectly still, even forgetting to breathe as he tries to figure out whether the sensation was actually good - could break through the dull, persistent pain of his body working itself over.

He is sweating now, slick and cold against Reinhardt’s skin, his hole clenched tight and suckling around the finger, trying to pull him farther in when all Reinhardt wants to do is make love to his plump prostate and listen to his low, hoarse groans as his body gets forced to accept the pleasure.

“Yes… that’s it,” Reinhardt hums, low, large body curled around him to better reach when he starts struggling and fussing, his cock chubby and juicy as the tip starts getting wet. It is just about peeking out of the foreskin, and Reinhardt curls fingers around the half-hard shaft to rearrange it so he can watch better and let it drool sticky into Reaper’s pubes.

“It’ll be over soon. You’re doing so well,” he tells him in a rumble, fingertip now nudging directly against the sweet, needy spot. “It’ll be better in a moment. Just a moment… That’s it.”

Reaper growls and gnashes his teeth, but it almost sounds petulant at that point; like he is embarrassed as his hips start curving, fucking his half-hard plump dick into nothing at all, the need to deep dick someone or something growing the more Reinhardt presses and teases and makes him stay between his thighs to get worked over slow and patient until he’ll finally let himself come and enjoy the waves of warm euphoria that would let his body rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	150. McCree/Hanzo Exhibitionism

Since the capture of their newest - temporary - acquisition, the hideout had changed. The usual buzz of laziness had made way for an underlying tension that seemed to thrum along the skin.

Jesse hadn’t actually seen to their captive since snatching him off of the airport - and hadn’t that been laughably easy; seemingly nobody had thought them audacious enough to actually kidnap the Shimada boss’s son in bright daylight - and he started to feel that maybe that might have been a miscalculation on his part.

His boys were very… impressionable, after all.

He walked in slow, measured steps, lazily flicking a coin through the air and snatching it again and again. The dingy hallways were practically deserted, and even peering into the usual hangouts, like the loading hangar only saw one or two passed-out drunk grunts lying behind crates or across a table.

Jesse’s bushy eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Were they all…?

They actually were. The din of voices got louder the closer his unhurried steps took him towards his destination, and, rounding the corner, he could see most of his man piling around the door of their captive’s room.

“Well, now.”

Jesse’s half-loud drawl made them freeze and turn, quickly opening up a way for him to squeeze through. “What’s all the ruckus about? Don’tcha have some work to do?”

The room was spartan; only a small table with utensils for the upkeep of their visitor standing in a corner. Jesse didn’t trust him with more, to be honest; the kid - young man - was a trained assassin, after all; which was why he was chained like a dog, arms up high and wrists bound together, a gag keeping him from running his smart little mouth.

It did not explain the rest of the ropes, though, haphazardly thrown about his body, curling tight around chest and hips, binding one leg up into the air until he could barely stand on the toes of the other foot.

“What’s that now?” Jesse hummed, eyebrows up again, gaze sliding towards Milton, who was standing to the side, face a little pinkish in eagerness and a smug smile on his face. “Thought I told ya to wash and feed ‘im and not wrap him up like a present.”

Milton shrugged. He looked unapologetic, gesturing lazily with a hand that was still holding a dripping sponge. A few drops flew through the air and smacked against Shimada’s thigh, making him flinch in response.

“Well, yeah. I was going to wash him just like you asked, but this little here asshole is determined to make everything as difficult as possible. I told him. I told him - I said: ‘Now you go be a good boy and I’ll get you nice and clean and feed you sumthin’ tasty’, but every time I got close, he would kick me. So I thought I’d truss him up a lil’ more, get him secured so I could go about my business, but -” Milton shrugged again, dipping the sponge into a bucket with soapy water. There was steam curling into the air - Jesse had told his right hand man to be as courteous as possible and Milton had taken it to heart. “He was still being fuzzy and basically curled himself up in the ropes all by himself. And then…”

Milton’s face became a little darker. His eyes were wide and glassy, staring intently at their captive - and suddenly McCree became aware of a few things. The oppressive heat of his men at his back, their murmuring, low and sleazy even though he could not make out any particular words… and their captive’s predicament.

Shimada was naked, nothing unusual, he had been a little shit even when he’d been caught, slipping daggers and other small knifes from the most ludicrous compartments of his attire, but Jesse had not seen how he had reacted to his new situation: cock curving up from his body, hard and pink, the wet tip slipped half out of the foreskin. He had a pretty dick; still young and sleek looking; it didn’t have any real girth to it yet, even though the kid had to be some 20 something.

His belly was tight, curved in as if he tried to pull away from his own, traitorous dick, and as he stared, brain still trying to catch up with the situation, it jerked and bobbed, almost slapping into the tight muscles of his stomach.

“Oh,” Jesse said slowly, watching the pink flush on the captive’s body darkening, his toes curling where they were hanging in the air, and then again, a little more forcefully and drawn out, voice dripping with satisfaction: “Oooh.”

The young Shimada heir looked nothing short but furious. He could not say a word but his dark velvety eyes were filled with tears of angry frustration, staring at McCree as if he hoped he’d drop dead any second now.

“Lookin’ mighty pissed for a lad sporting an impressive hard-on,” Jesse told him gently, stepping closer, making way for his crew to file into the room. The makeshift cell was not big enough for everyone but they sure made an effort to cram inside even so while trying not to jostle their leader in the process - as jovial as McCree could be, he did have a nasty temper every once in awhile.

“Right?” Milton hung back for a moment, just stretching out one arm and touching the wet tips of his fingers to the bouncing toes of their captive. The young Shimada immediately kicked - or tried to - his dark eyebrows drawing together even more fiercely while his cock bobbed and strained, the tip practically getting even more wet beneath McCree’s amused gaze. “He looks pissed off but I tell ya, he loves the attention. Was just a cute little chub at first and when he noticed me lookin’…”

He steps closer now, hand stretching, fingertips not quite touching Shimada’s cock as it strains and flexes, the mound of his balls almost smooth enough to make McCree wonder whether he shaved or was just naturally hairless - though the thick thatch of black hair leading towards his dick made him think it had to be the former. How exciting.

He watched the kid struggle to get away from Milton’s non-existent touch just long enough to give him a chance to unbalance himself, body wriggling like a snake, trying his damndest to push himself into the opposite direction with the very tip toes he could still reach to the ground, then finally stepped closer, hand slapping onto Milton’s shoulder.

“I think I’m goin’ to take over now.”

Milton smirked, placing the sponge into his boss’ outstretched hand. “Sure thing, Jesse. Sure thing.”

He hung back, but did not leave, practically melting into the fray of the pack at Jesse’s back.

“Well now, Mr. Shimada,” Jesse begins, stepping closer, right up into the dangling man’s face. He can feel the faint bump of his cock against his belly, but does not look down - pretends like he can’t see the flinch in Shimada’s dark eyes or the way his face twists into a desperate grimace. “We’re tryin’ to be real nice to you while we wait for your daddy to come and get you out. Got a nice warm bath prepared and everythin’.”

He leans down, dipping the sponge into the still hot water of the bucket, and turns his head towards the bobbing cock, face close enough that he can smell the young man’s arousal. There’s a noise coming from higher up, a small, soft thing that Jesse couldn’t place anywhere, as he makes sure his breath hits warm and tickling the straining shaft when he speaks.

“Since you are being difficult, I think I should do the honors then, don’t you think? A leader should always be a glowing example. I can’t have my men doing things that I haven’t done, after all.”

He leans farther in, close enough to see the pitch black pubes move with his breath just before he closes his eyes and inhales deeply just at the junction of Shimada’s young, sleek cock and those smooth balls that look feather soft and tempting.

“So you’re going to be nice and still now,” he rumbles, voice deep and throaty; he opens his eyes and gazes up straight into the young heir’s flushed face, his liquid eyes looking even wetter than before - like he is going to cry in frustration while out of the corner of his eyes, Jesse can see a sticky pearl of pre-cum slowly drip from the dark tip of his dick. “I gotta show my men how to handle you, don’t I?”

And yes, Milton’s assessment might have been perfectly spot on - not that Jesse would have doubted it even one second - because the mention of his men watching has their captive struggling with renewed vigor even as his cock flexes and his balls move, pulling up tight towards his body. His chest is heaving, flushed just as much as his belly and cock, the dark rust color of his laughably small nipples only enhancing how very much he likes the thought.

They look good enough to eat; pebbled and obscene, sitting on his chest for the taking, and Jesse wonders how swollen they could get.

“So we’re going to let them see,” he mumbles, voice a silky purr as he finally gets up again, leaving the warm cloud of musk around the young man’s hips reluctantly. He steps around him, making sure not to get into radius of that devious little leg up in the air, and takes a moment to enjoy the view from this side.

The man was heavily muscled; almost squat, if it weren’t for the trim waist. The cleft of his ass was opened enough to give a sweet glimpse of the tender little muscle between, and Jesse wondered when he would get away with just kneeling down and eating him out.

Maybe not today; it was just an appetizer, but - yeah.

“You liking what yer seein’, boys?” he suddenly barks, watching the man flinch minimally before him. When he pulls the curtain of black, thin hair to the side so he can see his face, his fingers brush the hot skin of his cheek. His ears are cherry red and radiating an incredible heat when his men’s voices call back in a cacophony of praise and well-intentioned insults.

They were a good bunch, his boys.

Jesse doesn’t wait any longer. Doesn’t want to wait any longer. There is no finesse to the way he goes at it - the sponge was still warm and soft in his good hand, and there was no amount of shyness as he pushed it up into the Shimada heir’s cleft and made him squeak again, louder this time, swaying in the bonds he managed to wrap himself up in - and Jesse could see his eyes when he leaned across his shoulder, breathing warm and wet and excited right against his sensitive ear. They were clenched shut tight, tears glistening in the dark lashes.

“Open up,” he tells him in a gruff growl, and slides the sponge along the cleft first back, then forwards, forwards, forwards, until he could cup the tender skin of his taint and the swell of those delightful, naked balls while his thumb presses against the wet, trembling muscle of his anus. It feels petal soft and stupidly vulnerable. It sets Jesse’s teeth on edge. He wants to bite this perfect little heir, litter him with bite marks and bruises. Get him accustomed to the rough wilderness out here.

Instead, he just breathes in his scent and laughs a sharp bark when Shimada does open up, obedient as a puppy, eyes snapping open to stare with a wet gaze at the eager, aroused faces around him - and that little slutty ass relaxing for the big, rough thumb to slip in as easy as if it had been buttered, dipping in deep, up to the thick knuckle before Jesse could have thought of the possibility…..

“Shit,” he hisses - grunts out - eyebrows drawn together as he leans back enough to peer between them, staring at the unexpected and total capitulation of their captive. He is stretched around the thickness of his thumb, and after a few seconds Jesse can feel the fluttering contractions - like he is confused, like he is…

Shimada had become so still, eyes wide, staring ahead, cock bobbing and drooling eagerly - drips of wetness all over the floor beneath him - and he looked so stunned, so utterly floored that Jesse knew this had not been planned.

The kid had slipped up and relaxed for just a second, following the barked, rough-voiced command, and now he couldn’t take it back anymore. McCree and he were in a curious situation; nobody could see it, after all; him slowly fucking his thumb into the captive, testing out how soft and warm he was, how slutty and obviously well used, and Shimada turned his head minimally and peeked at him out of the corner of his eyes, and… he knew it too. How they had a little secret in midst of all the men watching and getting off.

Jesse grinned, sharp and wolfish. He moved, thick arm curling around Shimada’s hips, hand curling around his cock without hesitation - gripping it as if he had any right to do so, pulling back and finally allowing the pink, tender looking foreskin to roll back across the thickest part of the glans, exposing it wet and needy to the room beneath the appreciative murmur of the people around them.

“You are a dirty boy, aren’t you?” he says half loud, hand moving a little awkwardly as he tries to keep up the pretense of washing him while actually fucking into that tender, well-trained hole… and suddenly he wonders where it had been so well trained. Maintained. Taught to open up just like so and swallow whatever it was given.

He thought about this regal, stubborn young man back home in his exotic palace, getting waited on hand and foot by his guards. Lying on his back, legs in the air, held up in place by his own men and getting used to receiving cocks day in and day out…

“Yeah you are.” His voice had dropped lower than usual. It was gravelly; almost pained sounding as he rubs his untamed beard against the soft cheek of his captive. Shimada’s head slipped back, exposing his bobbing throat as he swayed before Jesse, seemingly helpless to the motion until Jesse realizes how he is sneakily fucking into his fist, and back unto the finger penetrating him.

“A little dirty slut that gets off on getting watched. Gets hard and needy just from a few ropes and needs his captors to get him off.”

He moves his thumb, presses it mean and rough against the tender head, and the Shimada heir suddenly bows his back as well as he can and howls into his gag, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and into the small patch of black beard he has growing on his chin.

He tries to twist away, but the ropes are holding well, cupping his body, digging in deep and leaving marks.

McCree has to think about his nipples, suddenly; so small and dark and ready to get abused by a suckling, greedy mouth. He swallows hard, and twists his hand around Shimada’s dick, squeezing mean enough to make him choke behind his gag.

“Yeah, you’re not used to this, are you? Bet your guards would not dream of touching you like this.”

The kid’s chest is rising and falling in heavy gulps of air; hard enough to make the tattoo twisting down his arm and slipping across his breast look almost alive.

Jesse twists his hand again and moves his thumb, wrist pumping, awkwardly fucking the Shimada heir with nobody the wiser. When he feels the thick, heavy pulse in his hand, he can’t help but sink his teeth into the blue ink on Shimada’s shoulder, riding out the way the kid’s ass is convulsing around his finger, milking and squeezing while he comes in front of the gathered crowd, the wet splashes of cum against concrete obscenely loud in the stifling air of the room.

Jesse pulls back the second the fluttering contractions stop clenching down on him. He feels tacky with sweat, cock bulging his pants, and head spinning with all the possibilities….

“Let him down. Get him to clean the floor,” he says roughly, not looking at Milton as he lets the sponge splash back into the water and rubs his wet hands against his jeans.

He shoulders his way past the rest of the crew, eyes stubbornly on the ground, shoulders set tight. He wonders whether Milton will see the swollen mess of the young Shimada heir’s ass when he lets him down enough to kneel on the floor and get to work his tongue against the cum splattered there.

Milton wasn’t stupid. He could put one and one together. The knowledge was thrilling. Let him know what a slut the kid was. Let the knowledge spread throughout the base. Nobody would touch him without the boss’ permission, but…

Oh, this would be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	151. Roadhog/Sombra

Sombra is afraid of Roadhog. It is not the nervous jittery excitement when dealing with Reaper who has a short fuse but is no match for her tech skills - but actual deeply seated fear. 

This man - this beast - is all natural, brutal force. There was nothing she could do about him with her tech know-how - if his scrapyard of a gun did no longer work, he still had huge meaty fists and a surprisingly absent conscience to wreak havoc.

Which is why her body’s first reaction when his thick fingers close around her arm a split second before she can glimmer out of existence is… to gush.

He towers over her, huge and forbidding, bleeding from a few shallow gashes, large gut constantly moving with his labored breaths, and all she can do is stare up at him like a little kid, mouth agape and cunt growing warm and tingly, swelling to puffy sensitivity.

“I think… we can come to an understanding,” she tries, voice scratchy and wobbling, knees feeling weak as she is rooted to the spot and her nipples become tight and painful.

Her eyes drop to the sausage thick fingers, staring at the short nails, painted with black, chipped polish - and she imagines them on her tits; pinching the dark, plump nipples and twisting them mean and brutal… pull at them until she has to go onto the very tips of her toes and whine because of his utter disregard to the delicate tissue.

God, but she wants that. Wants him to torture her breasts. Torture her. Lift her around and play with her body and…

He’s laughing at her. He sounds like he’s going to keel over any second, breath labored and rasping and it makes her even hotter for him. She wants him to rail her and breathe like he’s not going to make it through because he’s giving it to her so hard and good, and…

“Yes… I do think we can.”

He sits her on top of a barrel filled with chemicals and laughs again when she pushes his hands away so she can peel out of her leggings herself and salvage them.

“Shut up,” she mumbles under her breath, but there is no conviction behind it. She hates it when people laugh about her but she is so hot for his cock, that she can’t bring herself to care.

Her leggings are hobbling her knees when he loses patience ans gets a hold of them. She makes a breathless sound when he pushes her legs up, keeping her pinned like a goddamn babe that is a bout to get a diaper change and she feels her cheeks pound fiercely with a flush of anger and embarrassment.

He laughs again, more wheezing as if the sight of her cunt - already a fucking mess - is the best joke he’s heard all day.

“Been desperate?” he asks, and his expressionless mask with the large empty glasses of his goggles frightens her but it also makes her belly twist in on itself, her toes curling in the air and her cunt clenching before practically blooming open on another gush.

“Sh-shut up,” she says again, her voice girlish high and thin, sharp nails scratching against the barrel beneath her when one large finger slides through her gash and then holds it up - shows her the glistening slick coating the blunt tip.

She groans and tries to look away, but Roadhog is like a doctor’s visit: she is afraid but can’t just not look. She needs to see how he moves, needs to stare at his treetrunk arms as he reaches down and fumbles out of her line of vision - and then he is making a step forward and her legs get spread wide pushed farther up, knees pressing against her tits and squeezing the air from her lungs just from his huge belly pinning her small and cramped up beneath his gut, her cunt open and for the taking, puffy, ready, primed for dick-

and then she feels it, blunt and huge like a can of soda and the fear bounces back up as if it had hung on a rubber band, more forceful now, making her eyes widen and her mouth open, no sound coming out.

He can’t force that into her. He’s never going to be able to force that thing into her. And she wants to see his goddamn fucking cock. She wants to see it and hold it and try to cram it into her mouth. She wanted to know how long it was. Was it long? Or was it short and fat? A stout fat dick just for her to plug her up and make her drool and get her cunt to burn as it tried to adjust…

He tried slipping it into her once,

twice,

then grunted annoyed (Just like a pig. Just like a goddamn pig, and it made her even hotter, made her eyes well up with tears thinking this was an actual… an… actual…) and shuffled back a little.

“Too tight,” he comments, and reaches between them. She wants to laugh into his face, hysterically tell him that anybody would be too goddamn tight for that thing he called a cock - but his fingers on her make her shut up, mouth snapping closed, teeth clicking as he forces two fingers at once in, making her soft, spongy walls stretch until there actually were tears sliding down her temples and her nose was starting to run.

“Oh fuck,” she groaned - grunted - and her hands shot down, sharp fingernails digging into his arms without him seemingly noticing. “Oh fuck,” she says again, more emphatically, ringing for breath as her knees push against her chest and her vision swims. He’s not doing much. He’s fucking her without any finesse or regard to her pleasure; he’s just trying to pry her cunt wide enough open to cram his fat pig cock into her - yet her body is already winding tight and sensitive, belly twisting, the fear folding into itself and making her giddy until her teeth are chattering together and her bladder feels full, full, overfull, so sensitive she thinks she’s going to lose mastery of her bodily functions.

“Oh god. Please. Please please please, give it to me, give it to me, I’m.. I need.” She digs her fingernails deeper and stares into the expressionless void of his mask. She doesn’t think she has ever needed anything as badly in her life. Her orgasm just comes and doesn’t go or it does and she can’t tell because he’s winding her higher, pressing his big thumb onto her clit and just mashing it beneath the rough pad.

He’s laughing again, too, low and wheezing and bearing down onto her.

“Soon. Soon. Gonna open you right up, little piggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	152. Zarya/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world feels really awful and angry today - please if you're up for it would you write something sweet and soft with some of the ovw bois/girls? Maybe soldier 76 or gabe or zarya just getting petted and jerked off sooooo slow and good, praised the whole time? Maybe with tears and overstimulation. Only if you want.

“Look at you,” Reinhardt murmurs, finger beneath Zarya’s chin, tilting her head up and around so he can look at her flushed profile, sweat glinting along her hairline, eyes heavy lidded and needy. “You’re beautiful. Can you give me one more?”

His other hand is between her trembling thighs, huge palm gently cupping her swollen cunt. She had been unwilling to let him touch her after her last orgasm, everything over sensitive and tingling, but by now the feeling has dulled into a gentle buzz and she has led his hand back where she needed it most.

“Yes,” she rasps, voice husky and deep, nipples tight and fat; waiting for a greedy mouth. “Yes, please. One more.”

He hums and moves, fingers spreading her puffy labia, sliding through the silky folds that they had been hiding up to the fat clit which he circles slowly, leisurely - there’s no rush here, they have all the time in the world.

She touches her own tits while he plays with her cunt, squeezing, cupping, playing with them before she pinches the swollen tips slow and with mounting pressure.

“Beautiful,” Reinhardt murmurs again, tapping gently against her clit to make her bow away from him, a guttural groan slipping from her throat. “Atemberaubend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	153. Reaper/Soldier76, Roadhog/Lúcio Cuckolding

“Look how much he enjoys it,” Reaper’s voice is a sibilant hiss right into the good Soldier’s ear, both of them watching the display of Lúcio and Mako; the young man looking shockingly small in Roadhog’s embrace, back curved to a point of pain from the huge gut pressing into his back.

Roadhog shifts his short, sturdy legs apart and nudges his hips forward. He is not brutal in his fucking but he is negligent: holding Lúcio with one meaty hand hooked beneath his arm, the sausage-like fingers splayed across the young man’s chest.

Lúcio makes a soft sound when the cock is moved - a gurgling that almost seems like the coo of a pigeon as he embraces Hog’s huge forearm, holding on for dear life, his cock shiny at the tip and strings of sticky pre-cum slowly dripping to the floor.

The Soldier jerks forward at the strained noise but black tendrils curl around his biceps and pull him back.

“I said look, Morrison,” Reaper hisses dangerously, “not touch. What do you want to do anyway? You can’t give it to him as much as he needs it.”

Lúcio’s knees are trembling, his eyes looking glassy and wet. He seems close to crying, straining to push back and just managing a kitten weak shove. Roadhog snuffles - closer to a grunt - and moves his other hand, splaying it against the taut belly, the little finger just above the place where Lúcio’s abdomen was bulging gently from the cock nudging in deep and intimate.

“Your cock can’t do that,” Reaper hums. He sounds gleeful, one tendril sliding down and curling between the Soldier’s legs. “He’ll moan for you and whine and maybe even come but you know he does it just to humor you, don’t you? You couldn’t give it to him like that.”

Mako grunts softly again and lifts straightens from his hunched over position, simply lifting Lúcio with him, letting gravity work to sit him down the precious last inches of sturdy, fat cock he hasn’t been able to take yet.

Lúcio’s mouth falls open, cock jerking, legs feebly kicking as his feet lose connection to the ground.

“You know he’ll be thinking of this next time you try to wring a little pity orgasm out of him,” Reaper taunts, stroking the bulge he can feel, tendril lovingly cupping the hard ridge of the Soldier’s angry and reluctant erection. “Think of how wide he’s been spread on that fat cock. How it took days for his sweet little cunt to come back to normal. How good it hurt when that scary wide head finally popped it.”

The good Soldier is panting like a dog, watching Roadhog no longer fucking with his hips but with his hands, lifting and lowering Lúcio onto the short, wide cock - still long enough to push against his lower abdomen and give him a little belly.

“He’ll think of how warm he got filled. A nice, big load just for him alone. He’ll think of that the next time you rut him like a dog and leave him with just the unsatisfying afterglow of what he could really have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	154. McCree/Soldier76 Intercrural

Jesse might have filled out since Gabriel had pulled him out of Deadlock – might have, in fact, filled out a little too much, belly having gotten soft and hairy with the years – but he still was the same stupid kid from back then.

He still fumbled his words when he got excited, mouth hanging open, barrel chest heaving, none of that lazy cowboy charm to be found when his cock was already lifting from the wild nest of curls he had cultivated himself.

Well. Maybe it was a little endearing; how he got almost shy watching Jack on the bed, large hands balling into fists at his sides and then relaxing again, fingers moving as if they hurt.

“Oh wow. I… wow.”

His shaggy beard touches his chest as he nervously shoves himself forward onto the edge of the mattress, knees almost touching Jack’s hips.

Gabriel leans back in his chair, chin braced on the palm of one hand, watching the delicious contrast of burly, hairy Jesse next to the golden boy.

“You only gonna watch him?”

Jesse startles, throwing a short sidelong glance at his old mentor sitting not too far to the side.

“No,” he mumbles, then stretches out his hand, blunt fingertips touching the side of Jack’s torso, pushing against the hard ridges of his ribs. Gabriel can see the shudder going through the Soldier’s body, how he tilts his greying head back into the pillow, eyes closing, mouth going soft and needy.

He’s been anticipating this for weeks, it seems. Maybe months, even – who knew how long he’s had to hype himself up for finally going and asking Gabriel for what was his; watching Jesse secretly, staring at the loose bulge of his swinging dick whenever the cowboy swaggers across base – wanting to have that big cock that Jesse so naively showed off with his lack of underwear and decorum.

Gabriel wonders if Jack had thought it go like this, though: Jesse being a fumbling, nervous idiot and Gabriel sitting to the side, directing them. Both his… what – submissives? Slaves? Boyfriends? in one room at last.

“Do you like him, Jesse?” he asks, voice pitched to a low purr as he watches McCree’s hand move, sliding onto Jack’s belly where it splays, touching the hard won muscles that he himself did not possess. “You like how pretty he is? A little doll for you to play with.”

Jack is a tall man; imposing, even, when stuffed out in all his regalia and standing in front of a slew of soldiers.

Next to Jesse, however – that sheer hairy bulk, all that warm, brown skin – he looks unreal; like a thing made out of paper, ready to get crumbled up and torn apart. He seems ready for it, too, when he sees Jesse nodding mutely, mouth still hanging open in wonder, cock swelling a little more.

Jesse never needs much to get excited.

“He has lovely tits, don’t you think?” Gabriel prods further, shifting forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I know for a fact that they’re very sensitive. Jack loves getting them played with. I got so many pretty clamps for him.”

Through the shaggy fall of Jesse’s uncombed hair, Gabriel can see his ears lighting up like a lamp, warm and red as McCree first shoots him a small, needy gaze – wanting, obviously needing to see those little toys for himself one of these days – then looks back at Jack and the generous swell of his pecs, his nipples sitting small and candy pink right there for the taking.

His chest moves in tantalizing ups and downs, almost heaving as he feels the gaze of both men riveted on him.

Jesse reaches for one peaked tip almost hesitatingly, blunt fingertips catching it and squeezing carefully.

Jack groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, bows his back up into the feeling and lets Jesse do as he wishes.

“C-Commander…”

Gabriel grins slow with a lot of teeth, eyes crinkling at the corners and the chair groaning faintly beneath his weight when he angles himself forward even more.

“Why don’t you mount up, cowboy? He’s been wanting to say hello to your cock for a while now. You shouldn’t leave him hanging.”

McCree murmurs something under his breath, hand curling around his cock, giving it a little squeeze as he pinches again, carefully, then pulls a little for good measure just to watch how Morrison’s flush starts creeping down from his ears into his cheeks and towards his throat.

“How far does that pretty lil’ blush go?” he asks, the drawl more pronounced than usual, making it difficult to understand.

Gabriel leans back, legs falling open carelessly, hand inching towards his crotch but not yet touching – he was going to make this one last.

“Why don’t you find out?”

.o.

The blush creeps down his throat and over his collarbones, pinkening up his tits like an offering, and Gabriel wonders vaguely whether McCree will start drooling like a dog.

His thighs look massive as he kneels over his Strike Commander, the tense muscles making them look even juicier, and Gabriel can’t get enough from the sight of his hairy ass hovering a few inches above Morrison’s perfect, smooth belly.

For all that McCree seemed out of shape, he did possess a surprising amount of stamina: chin on his chest, watching himself move with almost machine like relentlessness, fucking carefully so his cock wouldn’t slip from the plush valley of Morrison’s chest.

Jesse’s belly is moving with the rocking motions of his hips; almost hypnotically as he fucks, his hands splayed on Morrison’s pectorals, thumbs pressing down against the thick shaft of his cock to hold it down.

Whenever he has pushed in the deepes, his foreskin rolls back, the wet, swollen head of his cock practically popping out – and Jack is straining for it, head up, mouth open, trying to get a lick in and only managing to smear his chin with sticky pre-cum.

“Look up at him,” Gabriel orders and Jesse groans when Morrison does just that: those painfully blue eyes rolling up, staring into McCree’s face as he tries and fails to suckle the fat tip into his mouth, making a spectacle of himself.

Jesse does help him, then - lets go of those plush tits to cup one large hand behind Morrison’s head and cradle it, keep him nice and up as he pushes those scant last few centimeters towards him, letting him close his lips around the leaking tip and lash his greedy tongue against the slit to taste how salty it was.

Morrison’s eyelids flutter, his cock an angry red, so hard it stays on its own, angled away from his clenching belly, but before he can close them, Gabriel tuts and he snaps them open, staring up even as they start to water.

“Did I tell you you could fuck his mouth?” Gabriel asks idly, knee bouncing, head tilting back against the headrest. Jesse whines like a dog but does shuffle obediently backwards, both men sounding close to tears when his cock leaves the warm, greedy suction of Morrison’s mouth with a lewd pop.

“Help him along, why don’t you, Jackie-boy?”

And God, do they look delicious like that: Morrison framing his pecs with his own hands, pushing them together to deepen the valley of his tits, let Jesse hump his dark, swollen cock in the crease and get it sticky and shiny with pre-cum.

McCree’s balls, big and hairy as the rest of him, drag against the delicate skin of Jack’s sternum. Gabriel wonders whether it’ll be red afterwards; raw from the rough pubes grinding into him again and again.

As he watches, Morrison shifts his hands, fingers splaying, taking the swollen peaks of his nipples between them just to add a bit more pressure on them. His mouth is bruised looking and wet, falling open when he grips the firm muscles and pinches his nipples in the process.

“You like fucking his tits, McCree?”

Jesse nods, eager and canine, his teeth bared in a way that makes Gabriel think he wants to chew on one of his cigars. It would suit him: pulling nervous puffs while fucking his big cock between Morrison’s tits. That same big cock that was too heavy to stand up on its own, drooping deliciously, foreskin silky and dark and mouthwatering…

“Jesse looks good on you, Morrison,” Gabriel rasps, hand squeezing his cock through his pants, hips curving up into it. “But I bet you’d love to reciprocate, wouldn’t you? He doesn’t have your gorgeous tits, but he has a nice fat ass. Would you like fucking his hairy cheeks? I could help you with it. Get up behind you. Guide your hips with mine.”

Jack is breathing like he has trouble getting air into his lungs. His cock flexes, a string of pre-cum dripping towards his abdomen, knees twitching restlessly, then pulling slowly up. He can’t keep his hips still, shimmying from side to side.

“Yeah, you’d love that,” Gabriel purrs. He is grinding against his palm, fucking lazily, wondering whether he should get up and get his fleshlight; but he doesn’t want to miss any of the action – not when Morrison looks like he’s about to pump out his load just from McCree fucking his sturdy, fat dick between his tits.

McCree’s cheeks are ruddy red beneath his shaggy beard, his dark eyes glistening; watery and feverish at the same time. He is chuffing like a train, slanting little submissive glances towards Gabriel; he already knows the drill about coming too soon and without permission, and he looks ready to beg already.

No stamina this one. Gabriel loves it.

He grins predatory and slides a little deeper into his chair, settling in for the long haul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	155. McCree/Reaper

Jesse feels dazed, staring at the ceiling, feeling his neck throb in the few spots where Gabriel sucked small, precise hickey into his skin. He had to keep himself from fidgeting and moving his head around just to relive the memories of Reyes’ beard tickling his skin, the soft wet warmth of his mouth a stark contrast.

There had been no real agenda behind it other than Reyes wanting to make out, pressing Jesse down into the bed with his bulk and petting a slip of warm skin on his hips. There had been no rush - he had himself not be rushed - even though Jesse had started to squirm almost as fast as they had begun, nervously aroused, libido even more confused when Reyes had grunted only mildly annoyed, rubbed his nose along his jaw, and mumbled: “Shit, kid. Calm down.”

He still felt giddy and confused, not daring to move even one muscle as Reyes slept half atop him, pressing him down like a warm, heavy blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	156. McCree

Deadlock had not been… ideal, but it had also not all been bad.

Like McCree had gotten all the dick he could ever have wanted, spending most of his days bend over, sometimes even helpfully spreading his cheeks just so someone would take pity on him.

They did like to insult him, telling him his ass was ‘too fucking hairy’, that he needed to do something about it if he wanted to keep getting dicked - but truth was that they still had thumbed the crisp fur to the side and pushed right into the slicked up, warm space they unearthed.

Jesse had kind of liked how they talked about him; just grinning along and taking the abuse, cock lazily interested in how negligent they were about fucking him; rutting into him and depositing a warm, creamy load before leaving him to hunt down another cock that was up for the challenge.

They did not much care for making sure he came and that was more than fine with him. He didn’t much care for it himself: he just wanted to get fucked; to feel his rim being pouty and swollen, tingling from a good reaming.

Blackwatch had been good for that, too. There had not been the sheer variety and collection of dicks, but Reyes alone was… very nice. He had a big cock. Girthy. One that Jesse fantasized about when the commander was out and about, stuffing himself with a few fingers, the angle too awkward to get a good self-loving session in but unable to keep from touching anyway.

After that, Overwatch had been a disappointment for the longest time.

For some reason they seemed to think he would like to give more than he’d like to receive and wasn’t that just frustrating? Prowling around base, looking for a fix for that itch, seeing all those virile, tasty cocks and not knowing how to approach.

It took a kind of intervention, in the end; him kneeling in the showers, trying to fuck himself and failing because he’d never be able to give himself as good as he wanted it, so frustrated he could cry, ass angled high in the air, at least trying to get some of the water pressure drumming against his rim and take some of the edge off… until finally, finally Lúcio stumbled across him - and everything immediately became better.

There were none of the insults and the faked disgust from the Deadlock days, but he enjoyed Lúcio’s breathless, whiny praise just as much; liked watching them in the mirror, how the young man was curled over him, hands framing his hips, mumbling about his plush - fat - ass and how much he adored it; slamming into him, making him take the abuse and getting stupidly excited at how well he could receive - sturdy enough not to get toppled over but to even angle back into it.

Craving it. Needing it.

God, he had dreamed of this for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	157. McCree/Genji

Lúcio was a good guy; he liked sharing his happiness. He didn’t mind lending his stuff or his help, and he definitely didn’t mind lending his good friend Genji McCree’s services.

Genji had muttered something McCree had not been able to understand when presented with the man’s ass, but it just sounded enough like a short, heartfelt prayer that he grinned and settled down for the long haul, chewing lazily on the end of a cigar and waiting for the action to begin.

The two men were at his back, their hands petting his thick thighs and sturdy hips, muttering to each other and occasionally giggling.

They seemed just as hyped on getting to fuck McCree as he was on getting reamed something good - even going so far as to arch his back down and his ass up, ready for the action to begin.

And as soft and playful as Lúcio was when fucking, curling his body over McCree, just humping away as his cock got held nice and warm and snug - Genji was more purposeful. There was an agenda behind how he handled McCree, hips strong and hands sure enough to make Jesse perk up and look around, cigar hanging precariously in the corner of his mouth.

Genji still wore his visor, everything about him expressionless and alien, and making McCree’s toes curl in excitement. His cock felt weird, sleek from tip to base with no discernible glans, and when he clenched down, it seemed to thrum.

“C-Can you even…” Genji slaps his ass once, firm, as if testing the waters, and Jesse wants to beg him for more of the treatment; maybe ask for Lúcio to get at his tits and bite at the large, brown nipples. “Can you even come?”

He hears Genji huff in amusement and Lúcio snickers.

“You mean if I can fill you up?” Genji practically purrs, the heavily accented English rubbing McCree in all the right ways. “Oh, can I ever…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	158. Reinhardt/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo getting to be the one to fuck tiddies and Rienheardt is encouraging him and his chest fluff is so nice to rut against.

“That’s it.. you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Such a nice cock you have…” Reinhardt murmurs, watching the stretch of Hanzo’s body heavy lidded, big hands framing his own chest, pressing his pectorals together for Hanzo to fuck between.

He doesn’t answer, but the little grunts he emits with every forward push climb higher, their sound so acutely desperate it was flattering.

Hanzo’s cock slides along the thick hair covering Reinhardt’s sternum, flattening it down and creating a small, sticky warm valley; a pretty bed for his pretty cock to fuck against, the very tip is flushed the same dark pink as the archer’s prominent cheek bones. It is a rather lovely look.

“Do you like fucking my tits?” Reinhardt asks, voice pitched low, the rumble from his chest tickling Hanzo’s balls where they drag messily across his skin as well. Hanzo wheezes and almost jackknifes, back curling in what looks like agony as his hips stutter and loose their carefully kept rhythm.

He fucks small and aborted, like a small pet dog rutting against the shoes of his owner. His hair is falling across around his face, eyes clenched tightly shut as he keeps jerking, trying to deep dick what he can’t fuck - not really, at least.

All he can do is fuck the tight valley between Reinhardt’s pectorals and smear his pre-cum all over the ample fur gathered there.

“You can fuck my ass later,” Reinhardt promises in a murmur as Hanzo leans even farther down, his face pressing into the pillow next to Reinhardt’s head, trying not to look at him while he fucks his tits. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Hanzo shakes his head ‘no’, the heat of his flush tangible against Reinhardt’s cheek. He grins and leaves Hanzo be; he always was so ashamed about his own neediness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	159. Reinhardt/Reaper Size Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohhh fuck yeah. reinhardt gets targeted by a thirsty ass gabriel who wants that fat lion dick so he lets reinhardt do his first time on gabe's ass and gabe fucking melts and rein's all ; w ;

Gabriel’s mouth falls open when he feels the fat, blunt tip first nudge, then push insistently against his softly gaping hole. His eyebrows furrow in concentration, cheeks heating with an excited flush when he hunches forward, one hand going between his thighs, fumbling with the thick, big cock he got to play with today - the one he’s been thirsting after for so long it felt unreal to be sitting astride Reinhardt now with the permission to stuff himself to his heart’s content.

His fingers dig into Reinhardt’s chest, trying to find purchase as he grits his teeth and bears down, tears shooting into his eyes when his rim starts to stretch, stretch, stretch and he’s nowhere near done cramming even just the tip into himself.

“Shit,” he whines, voice high and tight with exertion, thighs shivering, hips feeling warm and loose, as if filled with molten metal - and Reinhardt… he’s breathing through the whole ordeal, quick little chuffs from behind his hands as he shields his eyes - like he can’t bear the sight of Gabriel astride him, so very determined to get that big, fat cock so deep inside that it’ll feel like he’s fucking right into his belly, getting it warmed up for the creamy load Reinhardt was sure to have.

“Can’t believe this shit,” Gabriel says - whines - hips trying to roll downwards and smoothly take more, but stuttering to a halt just shy of actually doing so: Gabriel was just as nervous as Reinhardt, though for very different reasons. There was a giddy little bubble in his chest that was expanding and making it harder and harder to breathe. 

God, he wanted that fat cock like nothing else. Wanted to feel the burn…

“Look at me, come on,” he grinds out from between clenched teeth, wet rim mouthing on the swollen tip. Reinhardt grunts and shifts his thick fingers, peeking at him from between.

“You are… s-so very brazen, my friend,” he rasps. He lets Gabriel pull his arms down by his wrists but prefers to look to the side, a hot flush to his cheeks.

“This is so… lewd.”

Yet his cock throbs and flexes once, pushing up more firmly against Gabriel’s hole - and both of them groan deep in their chests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	160. Zarya/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarya is the first one to beat him in a wrestling match, (that's why Reinheart is so nervous about going up against her, because he know she's going to win and claim his ass for Mother Russia), and she takes her sweet time working him over like the soft, fuzzy bear he is.

She has him in a headlock, barely allowing him to breathe while she coos at him and digs her knee deeper into his back - makes him arch his ass to relieve some of the pressure on his spine.

“That’s it. That’s a good boy,” she purrs, her low, accented voice dripping like honey. She holds her fingers with perfectly lacquered nails in front of his lips and feeds them to him; makes him suck like a good boy if he wants to keep breathing; then slips them into the tight training shorts he is wearing so she can pet his furry hole and get it wet and primed for what is to come.

“You’re a good loser, aren’t you, Reinhardt? It is why I always looked up to you. A good sportsman.”

Reinhardt flushes and hides his face against the mats, lips wet and needy as he angles his ass up into the petting and softly prodding fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	161. McCree/Reyes

Jesse wonders if Reyes was as intense with the other guys whose dicks he sucked; hunkering down, nonchalantly handling Jesse’s cock, dragging his mouth along the shaft, letting his beard tickle him - looking more like he was preparing a goddamn smoke than squatting in a dingy interrogation room, beanie still firmly on his shorn head, taking dick after dick.

He was looking up at Jesse, eyes heavy lidded, yes, but never breaking contact as he carefully, skillfully rolled the dark foreskin back to expose Jesse’s shiny glans, looking so shocking and wet next to Reyes’ mouth and against the chocolate brown of his beard.

Jesse tries to peek at the other guys standing around, jerking their wet cocks, trying to get it up again for another round, but he’s arrested by Reyes’ goddamn gaze as he suckles just at the tip, tonguing soft at the slit and dipping in just as he feeds himself just a bit more, cheeks pulling in, and wow that’s a good look on the commander.

Jesse feels trapped by the gaze, bullied into keeping up his erection - he doesn’t know what Reyes will do if he takes his cock away from him now, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to find out. 

He still thinks that he wouldn’t have managed to get it up in the first place if he had been confronted with Reyes’ hot, lazer focus stare in the first place.

Jesse chuffs. He would babble, but the edge of his shirt is between his teeth. Reyes has pushed it up, away from his abs, his hand looking so huge across his belly, and Jesse had just followed the quiet demand as he followed everything his Commander wanted.

Reyes is sucking in more, lips wet, making the slide easier as he lets the swollen head of Jesse’s cock slide along his tongue until it softly dips against the constriction of his throat.

Reyes groans and Jesse whines, hips tilting forward - not daring to thrust but needing to do something. Offering his cock up, begging for Reyes to let it slip into his throat.

Reyes does not, though - at least not yet. He pulls back with a self-indulgent slurp, big hand fisting Jesse, pumping his dick and still staring up at him, mouth stretched in an almost drunk looking grin.

“Got a nice dick on you, McCree.”

“Th-thank you, Sir.”

Reyes chuckles and leans back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	162. McCree/Reaper Werewolf

“Jesse~”

There is no outward sign to Jesse having heard him, other than the lazy twitch of his ear. He is stretched out on Gabriel’s bed, the lanky form of his furry body barely able to comfortable fold itself in on the mattress – but McCree had been determined and Reyes had to give him that: the boy went to hilarious lengths to enjoy a nice siesta.

“Jesse…” he tries again, voice pitched lower. He attempts to sit at the foot of the bed, but ultimately has to grab Jesse’s large paws and pull them across his lap. Jesse stops breathing for a second – he notices how the large barrel chest stops moving – and then resumes as if nothing is amiss.

What a con artist.

“As I recall you got your own room with your own bed,” Gabriel says slowly, his large hand cupping the underside of one paw. He can feel the warm, naked skin of Jesse’s pads against his palm; smooth and sensitive and, when he starts tracing the outline of one, and Jesse’s leg twitches, ticklish.

“I don’t think you need to keep crawling in here like a puppy looking for its Mom.”

At that, Jesse finally stops pretending to be asleep. His head lifts, snout tilting towards his chest to better look at his Commanding Officer, brown eyes large and deliberately sad.

And the thing is – Gabriel knows this; gets almost nauseous at how blatant and bad Jesse is at manipulating others, but it still… works.

Reyes scowls, if only at himself and lifts the two huge paws, pressing a slow kiss against the tips of Jesse’s toes.

“At least put somethin’ on next time. Can’t have you walkin’ round here naked,” he mumbles against the warm skin of one paw pad, eyes trailing and lingering on the nice, furry sheath and the big furry balls beneath.

“Shit, kid…”

Jesse huffs and Reyes glances up into his face. He is sporting a roguish grin, sharp teeth glinting intimidatingly in the light of the room.

Reyes grins back.

.o.

Jesse holds almost comically still when Gabriel carefully grabs his sheath. His tail is the only moving thing; practically wagging in slow motion as if he can’t contain how giddy he feels, because his Commander has agreed to… play with him.

“You got a pretty dick, don’tcha?” Gabriel rumbles. He can feel it swell beneath his palm, the loose skin stretching from the werewolf’s eager cock hidden underneath. “Why don’t you show it to me? Mutt…”

He says it like an endearment. When his hand moves, sliding down and cupping the warm swell of Jesse’s balls, the strong legs immediately shift to accommodate him, spreading apart and showing everything off.

Jesse is as shameless as he is trusting, mouth open and tongue lolling out of the side as he lets himself get felt up by his Commanding Officer. He rumbles when he feels Reyes squeeze his testicles, testing how much firmer they were when compared to a human’s; how big and warm they felt, ready… ripe…

Gabriel hums low in his throat, he is vaguely aware of the work still piled on his desk, but when presented with Jesse needy and wanting, he can’t help but indulge the kid.

He leans down and presses a kiss against the soft silky opening of Jesse’s sheath, hand rubbing along it’s length firmly and almost negligent, urging the thick swell he can feel underneath the thin skin to move.

Jesse grunts, eyes starting to slit in pleasure, slim hips trying to flex off the mattress and pump into Gabriel’s massaging hand.

“You wanna fuck, boy?” he asks, voice throaty, eyes glinting when he glances up towards Jesse. His hand is moving with purpose, sliding along the furry sheath, jerking the sturdy cock underneath off with the easy slide of the skin along the sensitive, wet surface.

Jesse whines pitifully, legs kicking meekly into the air: all that power contained and unsure because he doesn’t want to hurt Gabriel.

Reyes grins broad and sharp; he can feel his face heating in a dull, eager flush and his cock pressing painfully against his pants.

“Yeah. I got somethin’ special planned for you, kid. Bet you’ll love that.”

.o.

Jesse’s tongue is a menace. Gabriel tries to hold him back, but there is no chance to do so once Jesse has gotten a whiff of the pre-cum gathered beneath his foreskin. All he can do is hold on to the huge head, curled almost into himself as Jesse’s hot breath whuffs against his crotch.

His long tongue is out and eager; tacky wet as it drags along Gabriel’s cock, focusing on the sensitive head to try and push beneath the loose, silky skin.

Jesse wants to get more of the delicious salty taste and he is so very determined to get at it – gentle but persistent – while Gabriel’s legs shake dangerously, pants still awkwardly around his knees, Jesse’s fur tickling against his naked chest.

He is hyper aware of his anus, clenching in need whenever Jesse manages to let his tongue catch against the swollen tip of his cock. This is not what he had planned – what he is still determined to do – but he just can’t bring himself to push the werewolf’s head away.

His hands are fisted in the shaggy fur just behind Jesse’s big, soft ears, hips jerking, not quite fucking into the sharp, teeth filled maw, but close to it, whining pathetically in the back of his throat as Jesse works him over; as tenacious in this as he never was in training.

It’s only when he starts nudging farther down and back, trying to snuffle between Gabriel’s thighs, dripping tongue bathing his balls and trying to reach his hole, that he finally starts pushing against him, cock bouncing awkwardly in front of his belly.

“Back now,” he growls, voice shot, cheeks burning. “Got other things planned for you, kid.”

Jesse’s cock is out and delicious; so long and thick that Gabriel wonders whether he’ll be able to literally feel him in his belly. Whether Jesse’s watery dog cum will fill him up until he’s hot and full to bursting.

The thought makes him almost sway on his feet, need shooting through his belly, toes curling against the cool ground of his quarters. He wants it so bad he starts drooling, Adam’s Apple bobbing frantically as he tries to stymie the sudden flood, head filled with the thoughts of filling himself, having that large, warm doggy cock just for his amusement…

Jesse whines when Reyes climbs atop him, straddling his slim hips, the fur of his long legs tickling against Gabriel’s back.

Gabriel can just stare for a few long, drawn out moments when their cocks line up; his own, dark and sturdy, a good thickness that the kid had profited from more than once – and then Jesse’s goddamn dog cock, longer and dark red, hundreds of delicate little veins trailing beneath the slick-shiny skin and up towards the tapering tip… and thick – bulky – around the middle.

“Yeah. Yeah, you got a real pretty cock,” he murmurs, blunt fingertips trailing along the fat middle, watching how first the almost slimy cock flexes, and then the rest of the werewolf, squirming beneath him, Jesse whining pathetically, his long feet crossing awkwardly in the air behind Reyes, because he has no idea what to do with himself – not when his Commanding Officer is inspecting his cock and looks goddamn starved for it, holding him down with nothing more than the thick thighs clamped around Jesse’s abdomen…

.o.

Reyes face looks a little scary when he takes cock. Jesse knows that – or… maybe he doesn’t. It is hard to think properly in this form, and even harder when his cock is being shoved – crammed – into a space that feels to be way too small for the endeavour.

Reyes face is hovering above him, eyes clenched shut, eyebrows furrowed, mouth a thin, strict line whose sight alone makes Jesse want to stand at attention and salute. He’s been trained to a T by this man, and goddamn if that doesn’t make him want to follow his every command with submissive, doggish delight.

Still, standing still as he had been advised, proved that much harder when Reyes was so very determined to take his cock, inching back and forth and growling to himself in impatience when he can’t get it like he has obviously put into his head.

There is sweat glistening on his forehead, and Jesse wants to lean forward and lick at it, but he feels like Reyes might do something not fun to him when he disobeys his order, so he stays and whines pitifully because holy shit Reyes has just managed to slide a little farther down and the heat of his body is making him go nearly cross-eyed.

Reyes’ insides are soft and strangely comforting, hugging him and holding him warm and slick as Gabriel tries to take more of him.

When he finally bottoms out, they both don’t realize it has actually happened for the longest time.

Jesse’s tail wags cautiously when Reyes lifts his face and stares at him, mouth open and so soft and… and inviting looking, that Jesse can’t help but lean farther in, tongue gentle and loving as he first drags it across the unresponsive mouth once, then twice, then slips it inside because he just feels so much in that moment and Reyes is here and lets him, and his body is cushioning him so well…

“Goddamn,” Gabriel suddenly gasps, brain obviously rebooting with a kickstart. He jerks his head back just to be able to breathe, back arching, insides squeezing and Jesse whines again because there is nothing else he can do – nothing but lie there and take it while his Commander slowly, carefully sits up, his broad palms splayed against Jesse’s chest, bracing himself as he tries to righten himself while stuffed to what could only be the brim with Jesse’s eager, drooling cock.

He doesn’t bounce on him. Instead, he moves like he’s hurting: slow and careful rocking motions of his hips dragging Jesse’s cock along his soft inner walls in agonizing, small rubs.

When Jesse looks for it, he can see it, too; the slight bulge at the front of Reyes’ hard belly moving subtly. His cock. His cock filling Commander Reyes so thoroughly that the human has gone utterly silent with pleasure, mouth hanging open, taking in deep, gasping breaths and nothing more.

The loudest sound is the squelching of their bodies: the generous amount of pre-cum that Jesse produced getting forced out next to his cock with every new, small rocking motion, to slick down his sheath and get it tacky, then pool around his hurting balls.

And damn does he want to fuck right now; wants to mount Reyes and give it to him, rabbit fucking his big, juicy doggy cock into that lovely hole and make the strict, no-nonsense Commander howl with it.

He wants to fuck him into the mattress and through the goddamn floor, ranging above him and holding him down; wants the whole base to hear him as he’s getting stuffed good and proper, gets the dick he’s always lusting after and not letting himself actually have.

He wants everybody to know that Reyes is his

– and that he is Reyes’…

He doesn’t do any of these things, though. He knows he will never do them. He will never, unless Reyes commands him to do it, because Jesse is helplessly addicted to following orders and even if his cock aches staring at Reyes in the showers, in the hangar, in the briefing rooms… everywhere…

He would not – could not – do anything without the permission.

How sad he was.

The Deadlock rebell. How proud he had been to be part of that group; to not have to listen to anybody, thankyouverymuch; and how eager he was now to follow this particular man, willingly laying down and letting himself get used, feeling his balls throb and his cock flex inside that snug, warm body and knowing he’ll not be able to come… not without Reyes’ orders.

He’ll not get to shoot his load, to fill his Commander up to bursting, until he’s had the permission – until Reyes had his fill on his drooling, fat dog cock – and Jesse wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	163. RE7/Overwatch Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DONT talk about the Bakers + Reyes and McCree please I'm actually going to die. Twink McCree getting destroyed, Jack Baker showing him what a real Daddy is. Gabe blessed out and drooling, barely even knowing where he is because its been so long since someone really held him down and made him beg for Daddy.

Jesse had heard the labored squeaking of the bed springs, but he still had pushed the door open, head still fuzzy from dehydration over the last three days before they had stumbled out of the murky bayou and practically onto the Bakers’ doorstep.

He stands in the doorway, staring blankly at the large bodies moving on the bed; the moonlight from the window is bright enough to see everything - like his commander arching his back and pressing his ass up, wide hips framed by big, strong hands. He can even see how they squeeze once, accompanying the low, drawled ‘There’s a good boy’ before one travels up, sliding along the dip of his spine, towards the nape of his neck and then pressing down until his Commander… his Commander groans and capitulates and whispers a soft, almost questioning: “Daddy.”

“Yes, boy. I got you. Daddy got you good. Gonna give you right what you need.”

Mr. Baker still is wearing his glasses. The moonlight reflects in them; small, round spectacles that have slipped forward on the tip of his nose. He has a round, hairy belly and broad shoulders, and Jesse can feel his mouth dropping open, saliva gathering on his tongue as Mr. Baker takes his cock - fat and dark with need - and rubs the tip against Reyes’ hole.

Jesse can’t see it like that, but it looked nice; like he was preparing him for what to come. Priming him for the slow, gentle push of his hips, Reyes shuddering all over, massive hands curling into the bedding, grunting drawn out into his pillow, all the while Mr. Baker keeps him held down with one authoritative hand on the back of his neck.

“That’s it. Nice and easy. Got a pretty cunt for daddy, dont’cha? Yeah you do. Open up for me. Yeah… just like that.”

Mr. Baker is murmuring, mid-western drawl so broad it made Jesse ache, cock throbbing, joints feeling dangerously hot and loose - so ready to supplicate himself for that man with the thin hair and thick beard.

“Daddy, please,” Reyes groans as Mr. Baker rocks deeper, slowly, like he has all the time in the world - the bed creaking loud and obnoxiously and only adding to Jesse’s desperate erection.

“Oh look-ie there… don’t just stand there, lad. Come on in; how’s daddy supposed to take care of you if you’re all the way over there.”

Jesse stumbles closer, the door falling shut behind him with a soft click, eyes not leaving Mr. Baker’s face. The man was not as impressive in stature as Reyes was - at last not anymore… Jesse had seen pictures of him when he was younger and still with the military - but he was more than happy to submit to him; cuddle up to his Commander and ask Daddy for cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	164. RE7/Overwatch Crossover 2

Jesse felt almost sleepy sucking Mr. Baker’s cock, head lying on his belly, feeling how deceptively firm it was beneath his ear.

He suckled like a babe, just the fat tip clamped between his lips, salty pre-cum dripping against his lazily cradling tongue.

He was a sloppy fuck, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and making daddy’s pubes tacky, but daddy didn’t mind much. He chuckled, big hand petting Jesse’s hair, holding it back from his face while he watched the news and Commander Reyes talked to Marguerite in the kitchen somewhere behind them in another room - another world.

“Thank you for your hospitality. Our evac team will pick us up tomorrow evening. If we could just…”

“Oh nonsense, dear. Not even another word about it.”

Jesse blinks slowly, staring blearily at the old TV in front of them. Mr. Baker’s hips roll up, nudging his cock deeper, dragging it across Jesse’s tongue, and Jesse starts suckling again more vigorously, eyes closing.

“It is our honor to have you in our home as guests, Gabriel. It’s been so very quiet since Zoe and Lucas moved out. Especially Jack appreciates having you boys around…”

A burst of salty fluid across Jesse’s tongue makes him groan loud and throaty, finally enticing him to stop lying there and enjoying the ride in favor of fucking his mouth, then his throat down onto the thick cock.

They can hear Marguerite laugh in the other room while Mr. Baker sighs in relief and slides a little farther down. Jesse can see his hand dangling over the armrest, his glasses loosely held between his fingers.

“Doin’ Daddy a real favor, my boy. Damn. Just like that.” And he gentle presses down on the back of Jesse’s head until he gags wet and sloppy and the swollen tip nudges into his constricting throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	165. Hanzo/DVa Ignoring

Hanzo fucks like he lives his live; doggedly and with seemingly no pleasure gained from it. 

He is curled across D.Va’s back, hips pistoning almost frantically, pumping his cock into her small, pink asshole; gripping him tight and warm.

“Yes,” he grunts, eyes slitted in determination, one large hand curled tight into the bedding next to her head, the other pushed beneath her - holding her small tit and squeezing it every now and then almost absentmindedly. “You like this, don’t you? You’re still so tight back here.”

He tries to get the tremble out of his voice and almost succeeds with it. His cock feels overly hot, overly swollen; like it was stuffed itself, inflamed, oversensitive as he humped into her ass, making it spread for him, getting it loose…

“Hm? Oh… yeah. Yeah - whatever.”

He loses his rhythm at her yawn, mouth falling open as his hips stutter and his cock pulses, inside the warm clutch of her ass.

D.Va throws her hair around to better lay her head down on her crossed arms, she looks serene. She looks goddamn sleepy while Hanzo is fucking her, driving into her until his sharp hips smack against her soft, little cheeks - and he can’t help but hiccup out a whine, high and pathetic as his balls draw up so sudden and tight that it hurts.

“Oh… did you come?” She lifts her head again, looks back at him out of the corner of her eye to stare at his red, flushed face. “Your cock just jumped, I mean-”

“N-No I don’t… I didn’t…” he is taken by surprise by her nonchalance; can’t believe this is happening - that she is doing this to him and it gets him so hot, eyes filling with tears of humiliation.

“Ah… alright-y, then. Just… take your time, I guess.”

She jawns again, long and jaw-cracking and Hanzo ruts forward without thinking about it, eyes widening in abject shock as he feels himself coming; so sudden and unexpected it hardly even registers as an orgasm.

“Oh man.. what a mess,” she whines, ass tilting up, apparently trying not to make him spill out of her. “You’re going to clean that up, right?”

He’s not even stopped coming and she’s already-

Hanzo groans deep in his throat, the corners of his eyes burning, humiliation washing through him hot and delicious.

God, he never knew he needed…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	166. McCree/Reyes Daddy

Gabriel slows his thrusts from their punishing speed, mouth set in a strict line. His chest is expanding fiercely with each deep inhale, sweat pricking at his temples.

Jesse makes a small sound beneath him; weak; almost a kitten mewl as he stretches his head back, offering up his throat and the tender underside of his scruffy chin.

He’s gotten quieter and quieter while Gabriel had fucked him, cheeks growing hot, dark, faithful eyes glassy the deeper his Commanding Officer has pushed, cock nudging into those warm, snug, secret places Gabriel was pretty sure were just for him.

God, the kid felt good on his dick; so welcoming and silky, gripping his dick, taking the fat length with minimal fuss.

“You alright?” he murmurs, gruffly, one wide palm petting over Jesse’s hair and pushing it from his sweaty forehead. “You still good?”

He nudges his hips forward, cock flexing when the action makes Jesse gasp wetly. He sounds close to tears even though there is a trembling, jaunty grin just about visible on his face. He rubs his head against Gabriel’s hand.

“Sure,” he whispers, voice hoarse, his cock lying thick against the thick treasure trail beneath his belly button. Whenever Gabriel fucks into him, it bounces distractingly; he wants to suck it into his mouth and give Jesse’s cute dick something good to remember.

Jesse’s hands clumsily reach for his arms, the fingers trembling as they pat down the corded muscles and then curl around his thick wrists. Gabriel shifts his knees apart, bracing himself as Jesse starts tugging on him. He lets the kid play, curious what he wants from him, and frowns when Jesse puts his wide palms around his scrawny neck.

“The fuck?” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing a slow back and forth. “You want me to choke you?”

Jesse is still grinning. He looks delirious - drunk on cock. He shakes his head no, the flush slowly creeping across the back of his nose.

“No jus’… jus’ stay like that, okay?”

Gabriel grunts, confused but obeying, his thrusts slow and leisurely and liquid as he ruts into McCree. He ends up cradling Jesse’s jaw more than anything else, and can feel his sigh of relief against his fingertips.

“Daddy,” Jesse murmurs, long legs curling across his Commander’s hips, holding on for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	167. McCree/Hanzo; Hanzo/Genji Drunk

The difference between sober Hanzo and drunk Hanzo did not lie within his love of cocks and getting stuffed to the brim - it lay within his expression of how much he actually needed to get filled.

He was uncoordinated when he was drunk like he was now - a little cross-eyed, endearingly so, and not quite able to grab at their dicks on the first try - but he was so very thankful for whatever they gave him; mumbling indistinct thank yous and arigatous even when Jesse was just teasingly slapping the fat head of his dick against Hanzo’s outstretched tongue, or when Genji was simply playing at stuffing him with cock: pressing close and insistent enough to almost push in, before letting it glance off and slip up, getting the top of Hanzo’s crack and the small of his back shiny with fluid.

His face is flushed dark from alcohol and lack of air, throat bulging with the cock Jesse had finally given him - fucked slowly and lovingly past the tight restriction of Hanzo’s throat, listening to him artlessly gag on the fat dick.

It’s wet and messy, his eyes tearing up, but when Jesse carefully inches back to let him breath, he tries fucking himself forward immediately.

Whenever they let go of him, he teeters on all fours, body seemingly indecisive where he wants to crawl first; whether he wants to kiss Jesse’s balls or lick at Genji’s fingers.

When he’s drunk, Hanzo is so delightfully clumsy.

“You’re so dishonorable, brother,” Genji coos, faceplate up, scarred face looking smug as he just has to lay a hand onto his brother’s back to get him to arch for him, hips angling up, the soft pout of his hole wet from Genji’s own excitement beckoning him closer. “Can’t hold your sake…”

He doesn’t fuck as doggedly as he used to - always wondering whether it would be the last time he got to feel his brother’s warm little snatch around his dick, clenching and greedy and so very hot; by now he knows that Hanzo will come back. That he craves this; craves his little brother fucking him easily - leisurely - with one hand on his hip and the other in the small of his own back, dicking him with little airy thrusts; fucking him as negligently as a frat boy would.

And Hanzo just goes wild for it, groans sloppily around McCree’s cock, drooling liberally; the flush of his intoxication making his body red and hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	168. McCree/Hanzo Whiskey Dick

“Don’t think I’ll be up to snuff for any playin’ tonight, babydoll,” Jesse murmurs. It is barely coherent, his lips move but the sounds that come out seem to lack behind the intended meaning of the words.

He stinks of cheap whiskey and wine. When Hanzo pushes him to fall onto the bed whatever patch of skin that can be seen above his wild, tangled beard becomes worryingly green before he takes deep breaths and relaxes again.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” he slurs, feet weekly kicking at Hanzo as he crawls onto the bed. “Why’re you so mean to me, baby?”

“Because you’re too slow.”

“Whassat now?” McCree tries to glance down at him but the effort - or motion - seems not to sit well with him so he starts patting downwards, huge paw of a hand missing several times before it lands heavily on Hanzo’s head and holds on to the tight knot of hair he finds there.

Hanzo grunts and shakes his head once but Jesse is not being dissuaded and he doesn’t care enough to make him let go.

What he cares about is working apart the fly of McCree’s jeans and reach in so he can fish around the warm, humid confines of his boxershorts for the prize he’s been lusting after all afternoon - prowling through base in search for the man that unfortunately was attached to such a marvelous cock, only to find out he’s been out trying to get himself blackout drunk.

“Babydoll?” McCree slurs. He grunts when Hanzo’s fingers finally slip into the slit in front of his shorts and encounter the sweat-tacky forest of his pubes. “Really. Don’ think I’ll be up to any-”

“Quiet.” Hanzo leans down, head pillowed on McCree’s thick thigh. He looks peaceful as a kitten in that moment, breathing deep, trying not to show how much he enjoys McCree’s unwashed drunken state as he carefully fishes his dick out of his underwear.

If only he were as sweet as one; alas, even in his inebriated state McCree knows not to touch when he hasn’t been explicitly invited to.

Hanzo sighs through his nose when the dark, fat cock finally is in view. It is soft and warm in his hand, but still heavy enough to make him hot and horny. Seldom has he seen such a nice, girthy dick. One that he could play hours with if only its Master wasn’t so very… clingy.

He plays with the foreskin; rubs his thumb across the generous silky folds, wriggling it through the opening and carefully touching the tip to the blunt, tacky glans underneath.

He wonders if McCree went for a piss halfway through his drinking. The thought of him not properly shaking off makes his belly hurt with need. He can feel his face burn, mouth overflowing with saliva - but McCree is still watching him with bleary eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Jesse whines when Hanzo moves his fingers; lets the warm cock slide through them in practiced ease, pushing down on the loose skin to get at the fat tip. It’s rare that Hanzo is willing to do all the work and the fact that his cock is not responding - even with the sight of the handsome archer’s lips wet and ready just inches away - is killing him.

Hanzo ignores him. It’s like Jesse doesn’t exist: only the lazy girth of his goddamn dick - and anything else between his legs, come to think of it.

He watches as Hanzo leans forward, nose burying against the base of his cock, eyes fluttering close as he takes in deep, slow breaths, and fuck Hanzo has never done that before but the sight of him burying his regal nose in the unkempt tangle of Jesse’s pubes is so good so hot… and his dick is still not moving even an inch. It’s fucking lying there and taking all the little kitten licks and loving rubs of Hanzo’s cheeks, and Jesse wants to goddamn die because Hanzo was never this sweet to him.

Only to his fucking dick, it seemed. Cuddling with the goddamn thing like it’s his boyfriend, almost cooing before he starts tonguing the soft opening of his foreskin, pretty eyes slitted in satisfaction, cheeks a dull crimson.

He’s gonna jerk off on it, he suddenly thinks; the only clear thought in his muddled brain - and he knows it will happen with such a surety that he can see it in his mind’s eye. Hanzo straddling him and bracing himself on the sturdy expanse of his gut; not sparing a glance at him as he frantically rubs one out, aiming his dick to cream all over the flushed red cock he dragged out to play with.

Goddamn marking his territory like a fucking cat or something.

“You’re gonna kill me, babydoll,” he whines, digging in his booted feet and lifting thick hips in a lame parody of fucking. He can’t muster up any more coordination than that and his cock can’t even slap against Hanzo’s pretty face because it’s in a secure, deadly grip and McCree might be blackout drunk but he definitely was not the damned fool to try and take his dick away from Lord Shimada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	169. McCree/Reyes Office AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this is kind of an old trope but the image of jesse answering a call while gabe sucks him off is really really good shit, hes just so chill and talks like he aint getting his knob slobbed. maybe he has to go get a file from a shelf and just stands right up, dick hanging out as he walks across his office leaving gabes mouth hanging open under his desk. he sits back down and is just totally cool, one hand flipping through paperwork while the other guides gabes mouth back onto his dick

“Reyes and Morrison Security. What can I do for you?”

Jesse could speak formally if he wanted to - no slurring and dragging of vowels when he answered the phone, and that’s why Reyes got him as his secretary in the first place. The kid knew when to stop fucking around and get to work.

Or he knew when to fuck around while getting to work.

Gabriel wants to pull back when he hears the muffled greeting but the kid’s hand is on top of his shaved head just a second later, holding him right in place with the gratifyingly fat tip of his dick resting on Gabriel’s tongue.

He hesitates for a moment, but Jesse pushes down insistently with the impatience of youth and Gabriel follows because deep down he is weak.

Because he is sitting beneath his secretary’s desk in nothing but the pretty lingerie he put on earlier this morning, his clothes neatly folded at his knees.

People could see him if they looked for it. There was wood all around him but he was still visible beneath the partition - the stocking bottoms of his feet and the curve of his naked ass because it wasn’t exciting enough to wear long stockings and garters, but he also needed to be freeballing it.

He was a fool.

“No, Mister Reyes is not at his desk at the moment,” Jesse said. His voice didn’t even waver. It was as deep and calm as ever. Nothing seemed to goddamned faze the kid - not getting screamed at by Reyes, not getting send onto a last minute errand just minutes before they closed for the day… and not getting his dick sucked by his boss while answering the phone, apparently.

Kid was unflappable.

Reyes had to admit he respected that.

He closed his eyes, cheeks burning as Jesse repeated the sentence with a little more steel behind his voice. He slipped farther down, throat opening easily to gag himself on McCree’s dick. The sounds were soft and wet and not nearly enough to reach through the thick wood and to the phone - but enough to make Jesse pat his head in appreciation.

“…yes, I understand. If you will give me a moment, I will get your file and we can sort the problem out.”

There isn’t even a moment of hesitation or uncertainty. He simply rolls back, pulling his dick from his boss’s mouth and stands up, dick glistening wet and bobbing awkwardly - eye catching - in the air of the office as he turns and retrieves the file.

Gabriel hunkers beneath the desk and just watches, cheeks burning, cock throbbing between his legs, sliding against the tops of his stockings. He doesn’t have enough time to really come down from the cock sucking high he slipped into. To think about his life choices that led to him in his secret lingerie beneath his secretary’s desk, sucking his dick like his life depended on it.

McCree is back in a moment and rolling his chair back into position.

“I am back. Sorry to make you wait.” It’s all so smooth and practiced - one hand opening the file, the other directing his wet cock back into Gabriel’s warm mouth; no hitch in his breathing, no stutter in his words as Gabriel closes his eyes and goes back to gagging himself on his fat cock.

He goes about his business as if his boss wasn’t there beneath his desk, and that is even hotter than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	170. DVa/Soldier76 Cunnilingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi Cyber - soooo I was thinking today about Dva and how she sometimes watches tv and can't really focus unless Soldier is hunkered up underneath her little skirt, licking her and licking her. She ignores him completely but every so often she'll shiver or squeak and maybe even have a little baby orgasm. But she won't let him stop licking her until her episode is done. Maybe she'll even watch two or three in a row.

“Hey, you!”

Her sharp command gets softened with a sweet little smile and her pink painted nail curling coyly to beckon him closer. “C’mere big boy. I got work for you.”

Jack watches her carefully over the rim of his thin, silver rimmed glasses. For a second his pale eyes flinch away and back towards his rifle lying across her desk - adorned with bunny stickers and pictures of her, Lúcio and Zenyatta - then back to her.

He flexes his big, oil-stained hands slowly. She can feel her belly grow tight just watching them; square and rough with big, blunt fingers that she’s ridden more often than she probably has put her own fingers up her cunt.

When he looks back at her, she smirks and wriggles her small, naked toes as she extends one leg and nudges his knee. She isn’t wearing anything beneath her airy, white skirt and his pale eyes immediately zero in on the dark patch of hair between her thighs; already glinting with slick.

His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply and then stands up with a jerk.

Before he can get to work, however, he has to clean his hands.

.o.

Just half a year ago, this would have been a fight. He probably would have sat on the floor, licking her for five minutes before those big, warm hands would have begun to wander without permission; square fingertips trying to tickle her asshole or slip into the humid gash of her cunt.

As it is now, he has been well trained.

Hana lies bonelessly in her armchair, naked legs thrown across his broad shoulders, fingers absentmindedly playing with his short, white hair as he worked underneath her skirt.

Sometimes, his nose would bump against the fat swell of her clit, and she would grunt, electricity flaring for a bright, addicting moment, coursing down towards her toes and then spreading in a warm, sensual arousal.

Most of the time his motions were slow and unhurried and monotonous. His tongue dragged through her cunt slow and unerringly like a wave, beard rough chin nudging against her clenching opening, getting the tender edges almost painfully sensitive.

The monotony made the times he varied the motions even more exciting; curling his tongue beneath her fat clit, cradling it against the silky surface to give it a special flick; a well placed hard suck that made her see stars and had her pause her show for a moment, tits feeling painfully tight and sensitive atop her chest.

A cheeky tongue delving deeper, rounding the tight clench of her anus and dragging across the flinching center until she had to pull him back up again…

He could keep it up for an admirably long time; leaning away to take a swig of water when he heard the beginning melody of the next episode, his lips bright red and swollen, just like her labia - his eyes still fixed on her candy red center, tongue almost lolling out of his head when she reaches down and spreads her swollen labia for his viewing pleasure; lets him watch as she dips one small finger into her tender opening to fuck herself and show him what he could not have.

Maybe she would ride his fingers later; or get on all fours and grind back against his face while he fucked his fleshlight.

Maybe she would go and visit one of her other toys, however. Take him with her and let him watch as another got to sample all the built up tension that he put into her, servicing her cunt diligently for an hour.

Yeah… maybe she’d do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	171. McCree/Reyes A/B/O, Watersports

Jesse plants his hand on the back of Gabriel’s head to hold him down but before Gabriel can bare his teeth and growl in warning, the other Alpha hesitates, then quickly pulls it back again. He’s sweaty and hot behind him, cock nestled between Gabriel’s cheeks; and he sounds worked up enough as if he’d already fucked for hours instead of just nervously trying to find where he could and couldn’t put his hands.

He’s like a grabby little pup as he slowly, carefully feels Gabriel up, and Gabriel grunts and cushions his head on his arms; lets him go at it as long as he doesn’t try to be the ‘Head-Alpha’ again or whatever shit they called their boss in Deadlock.

His past seems so long gone; Jesse doesn’t even look the part anymore. He filled out something nice. Maybe a little too much even around the middle - his hairy belly softer than one would think with all the training he goes through, but Gabriel secretly really likes it. It is nice to feel him up when he wrestles him down and ruts against his ass - and now it is nice to feel press into the small of his back when McCree leans down and presses a strange, wet little suckling kiss against his shoulder blade.

It feels intimate enough to make Gabriel grunt and lift his head, glancing at Jesse over the swell of his shoulder. Jesse pulls back, mumbling something that probably is supposed to be an apology, but his face looks a little feverish above his scruffy beard, his eyes glassy.

He looks already really into all of this even though he’s not gotten his dick into Gabriel.

Gabriel feels strangely pleased at it.

“C’mon. Don’t got all day, kid. Got a few reports waiting for me.”

“Y…Yes, Sir,” he mumbles, huge hands first cupping Gabriel’s trim waist, then sliding farther down - mapping the swell of his hips to their widest point, blunt thumbs pressing into the tops of his ass; mapping out the grooves there, then sliding down and spreading his cheeks.

Gabriel hears McCree make a sound like a wounded animal, high and punched out and he knows he’s watching his own dick nestled between his commander’s asscheeks.

Gabriel smirks secretly and puts his head back down on his arms, waiting for Jesse to finally get on with it.

.o.

There’s no mistaking it when McCree finally ‘gets on with it’. There is no mistaking that.

Gabriel’s mouth falls open, tongue lolling out with another humping, fast thrust. McCree isn’t even properly pulling out - just fucks Gabriel on a couple inches of his dick, making his rim spread around the widest part just above his knot again and again until tears shoot into his eyes.

Gabriel bites his forearm, tamping down on the low grunts McCree fucks out of him - but he can’t help how he’s lifting his ass into it, braced on the balls of his feet, knees not even touching the ground anymore… and that Jesse has noticed that he can’t ignore. Those big hands have shifted, moved to the backs of his thighs, feeling up the rock hard muscle there as he keeps his hips up in the air. McCree whines like a pup. Every now and then it’s like he can’t help himself, body curling forward, his wet mouth wiping messy kisses against Gabriel’s skin, punctuating the suckling with pathetic mewls that go right through Gabriel’s belly and wrap around his dick.

He can’t believe how hot McCree has got him with his goddamn stupid puppy humping. He can’t believe McCree is even fucking like that still; looking like a goddamn brick house and still to the partner he’s mounting and barely letting Gabriel breathe while he got his meaty arms around his belly and chest, getting a frantic little grope of Gabriel’s pecs in as his hips piston. He feels surrounded by McCree. Like he can taste him on the air with his lolling tongue. Like he can taste his dick in the back of his throat because McCree got a juicy cock and he’s never even looked at it before.

“You… you likin’ it, boss?” He mumbles it right against Gabriel’s ear. He must be able to feel the heat radiating off of Gabriel’s blush. He doesn’t want to answer; maybe just growl and elbow him in the side, but instead he groans low and shifts his head in a way that could be interpreted as a nod - and Jesse sucks in air sharply, whispers “Shit yeah…” and suckles on the tip of Gabriel’s ear until he can manage to roll his shoulders and jostle him off because that’s… that’s… it’s just too much….

But of course Jesse would find ways to make him see his… erroneous ways.

.o.

Gabriel is not sure he even realized when Jesse came. He’s not sure Jesse even realized it. But there’s a goddamn mess dripping down to the floor and Jesse sounds like he’s about to keel over while he keeps rutting through it, frothing the loads he already deposited up and making the mess squelch loud and obscene enough for Gabriel to almost try and hide his face in his arms.

“No… no style,” he grits out between his teeth, but he can’t do anything about it; he just has to stay right where he is, getting fucked… bred… goddamn fucking bred by another Alpha, his body feeling hot and feverish like a wound, cock hanging between his thighs, belly feeling filled with McCree’s creamy loads even though he knows it’s not possible; not with the amount that has dripped to the floor, but he still feels like…

“Fuck… Gonna… B-Boss…” Jesse jackknifes again, his meaty arms hooked around Gabriel’s belly, holding him secure - not letting him go even when Gabriel’s foggy, fuck-dumb brain realizes what is going to happen. Not that he… not that he wants to go, but… fuck… fuck it is happening; McCree is rutting in deep, letting him feel all of him from the leaking tip that seems so intent of fucking right through Gabriel’s belly button, to the tender little swell of his knot; that swell that quickly stops being small and tender and expands, fattening up, spreading against Gabriel’s walls right behind his rim until his whole body locks against the sensation, muscles tense, mouth hanging open, saliva dripping from the tip of his tongue…

He’s never been… he’s never felt… this…

Dimly, he can hear Jesse’s whining; can even hear the wet smacking of his little loving kisses - because the kid wouldn’t dare bite his Commander, his superior Alpha even when being crosseyed from knotting - and feel the heat crashing in waves through his body; from the tips of his toes up to the back of his neck.

His body is a trembling, locked mess and all he can do is follow McCree along, his eyes rolling up when he hears the splattering of his own release, endorphins rushing through his body, thighs shaking, biceps going loose and pathetic, elbows sliding apart until his cheek is pressed to the floor, shoulders angled down - presenting almost better than any Omega…

And then the smell hits him. The acrid scent of urine that is like a shock to the system, the heavy come loose body atop him jerking as well - both of them realizing in tandem that Gabriel’s release had not quite been what his overworked brain was thinking - that rather than coming like a freight train he was pissing, the puddle widening rapidly, warming up the knees that have slid down to the ground somewhere in between McCree knotting and him letting loose…

“Damn,” McCree whines, his sturdy hips stuttering, jerking forward and trying to pull back; and just managing to jostle his knot and fuck another spurt of piss from his Commander.

“S-Stay still,” Gabriel croaks, hot faced, not even able to stop his submissive wetting because it feels too good; his body is working against him and there is no way he can stop himself; there is no way when he’s stuffed with McCree’s fat, girthy knot and all he wants to do is show the Alpha how he is submitting to him; how he accepts his dominance and the good, deep breeding that came with it, even though McCree fucked like a damned pup.

Or maybe because of it? Because he was so flattered by Jesse’s mindless, needy rutting?

“Stay, stay, stay,” Jesse suddenly mutters. He must have felt the useless fluttering of muscles beneath him and counters it immediately by wrapping around his Commander more insistently; suckling kisses against his spine. He sounds fucking drunk on knotting that tight, warm space and the sharp smell of his piss.

“Stay just like that. Please,” he whimpers - and Gabriel growls, pathetic and weak, but does as he is told, pressing his hot embarrassed cheeks into the crook of his arm.

“You owe me an orgasm, McCree,” he grunts, another dribble of piss coming from him when McCree immediately nods against the dip of his spine; so eager to please his commanding Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	172. DVa/McCree Squirting

“Don’t be shy now. Let me see your sweet little peach. That’s it… that’s the ticket… swing your leg over here and we can get a start on this…”

McCree’s big hand gently curves around D.Va’s knee and helps her lift her leg and straddle him. She grunts softly, the stretch opening her up for his perusal - Jesse’s chest simply too wide for any modesty.

She freezes with her mouth centimeters from his dick, hand curled around the base, feeling how warm it was there - the pubes thick and unkempt and everything smelling mouth wateringly male.

D.Va glances back but she can’t much see past her thigh without twisting around much. She doesn’t need to see his face to know what he is thinking, though. McCree is considerate that way: he makes no secret out of his admiration, rumbling low and content as his huge hands - one warm, one warming up - cup her meager ass and pull it even farther apart, watching her clench down in reacting to the cold and the embarrassing stare.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. One hand leaves her. She hears him slurp messily and her cunt pulses in sympathy; growing warm and eager even before his spit wet fingers touch her anus and round it once, twice, just to feel the soft, wrinkled skin, then gliding down to spread the plump, furry lips of her cunt, scrutinizing the candy pink insides.

“That’s goddamn gorgeous,” she can hear him mumble indistinct. D.Va groans, upper body angling down, her small hard tits pressing against McCree’s soft abdomen as she lies her head down on his pelvis, nose buried in the thick nest of his pubes. She’s barely realizing she is cupping his cock against her cheek, feeling the lazily pulsing veins; how soft and delicate the skin is there.

It is hard to focus on anything when McCree is exploring her, sliding down and rounding her clit, tapping against it once or twice and muttering to himself before sliding back up and dipping the wide tip of a blunt finger into her; feeling how hot she is for him inside. How silky and slick already.

She hunches her hips down, tries to get more of him, entice him to fuck into that sweet little space she offers him up, but he just hums and shifts minimally, getting more comfortable on the bed as his thumbs spread her labia open, the gaze of his warm brown eyes heavy as he just watches her again. He seems to enjoy that a lot.

It is only then that she remembers to take care of him, too; her mouth generously wet as she finally starts kissing and nuzzling, servicing him with her whole goddamn face because she can’t decide what she loves more - to feel the fat, ruddy cock rub against her soft cheeks or to taste it on her tongue, sharp and salty.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he sighs behind her, his strong legs shifting apart, wide hips lifting exactly once to dip the very tip into her wet mouth, then settling down to let her ‘do her thing’ as he murmurs. It sounds a little more indistinct; like he’s put one of his cigars in his mouth, and the thought makes her inexplicably hotter: Jesse lying back and smoking lazily while fondling her, his big fingers sliding in, stretching her wide, only giving her a small taste of what it would be like to finally get his cock that is pulsing slow in her clutching, strangling hands.

She tongues at his foreskin, dips beneath it to taste that warm, silky space between it and the blunt, dark glans; her eyes going out of focus the longer she plays with him. She feels nearly trance like… like a kitten allowed to play with the big, lazy lion, and she loves every second of it.

He hums low and continuous, as if he knows how much she loves his voice; to feel it thrum up the knees clenched around his wide ribcage and shivering up towards her exposed cunt. Maybe he does know. Maybe he’s had his fair share of girls and boys in bed that go slack jawed when he talks, whose cunts and cocks pulse needily just for that low, warm baritone alone.

D.Va feels strangely excited at that thought. At being one in a long string of exploits. She think she can do whatever she want; can drool all over his dick eager and greedy and still not put out at the end of the day, and he will just accept it. Just shrug his shoulders and jerk off slow and lazy, knowing there’ll be another to take care of it on another day.

There’s no rush in anything McCree does. He is calm in a way that is stupidly attractive to her. He is calm like Zenyatta - but in a different way.

She is kissing the wet, sticky tip when he finally slides one broad finger in; and she is suckling on the glans - her mouth already filled so well - when he slips in the second one, hooking and pressing down while the ball of his metal hand cups her soft belly and presses up just above her pubic bone-

and D.Va groans sudden and loud, the sound exploding out of her just as unexpected as the warm blooming in her abdomen and spreading through her legs, getting everything loose and warm until she can’t tell if she’s even kneeling anymore or just slipped down warm and content.

McCree just laughs at her, his fingers moving slow, sliding back, then forth, pushing against her warm, spongy walls, then slipping into the same position that makes her whine this time, high - an almost squeak - as she reflexively clutches his cock with both fists, one above the other, holding on and squeezing until one of his heels kicks against the bedding and he talks, strained sounding as if he has thrown his head back.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Easy now. You like that, yeah? Why don’t you take a break and let me work. Jus’ let me show you a good time. Such a sweet little cunt. Such a tasty little peach you got…”

He’s murmuring the last things, as if talking to himself, his fingers moving, pressing against that sensitive spot that makes her eyes water. She doesn’t let go of his cock - can’t make herself not touch it; it’s big and fat and she loves his dick - but she does make herself go a little easier on it, thumbs rubbing shakily along a thick vein as she presses her forehead against his hipbone and just feels-

Feels how he shifts his metal hand until his fingers are pressing against her pudgy lower belly to stimulate her from the outside as his smooth skin warm thumb comes down to just lay atop her swollen clit.

She wonders why it took her so long to approach him. She could have had this earlier. She could have had this way earlier. This slow, systematic break down as he works her, mumbling to himself about how pretty she looks; how red and swollen everything starts looking as he works her over and makes her shake and whine.

“Think you can come for me like that?” he mumbles, the sound of his fingers fucking her cunt loud and obscene; it is positively squelching - her body so generous to get everything wet and smooth just for him while she feels like she is going out of her mind with heat; her belly tight and twisted, her nipples hard and sensitive. She is shaking, mouth open, drooling against the base of his dick that she is messily kissing out of animal reaction to the way he makes her feel good.

“Yeah you do,” he answers his own question, gently smug as he slides back in, fast and hard, fucking her in quick jabs that barely grace that good sweet perfect spot inside her and make her curl her toes in dismay because she wants that, she needs that, she… she needs… just a little more…

“Just… like… this.” 

D.Va pulls in a sharp breath when he presses down on that needy, pulsing spot and her body locks, eyes pulsating behind her clenched eyelids. She loses the last control she has over her own body. She can feel herself jerk, get oversensitive within a split second, trying to get away from McCree’s merciless fingers rubbing sharp little circles across her fat, swollen clit.

She is grunting low like an animal. She didn’t know she could even make sounds like that, her face heating, her ears throbbing with her heart beat as McCree holds her steady and keeps rubbing at her, until she can hear his low groan like an explosion, his almost frantic: “Fuck yeah, that’s it, that’s the ticked Hana, yeah damn” At the same time she can feel herself lose it even more, can feel herself squirting once, a sharp spray that she couldn’t even have hoped to stop, her body operating outside her will; showing McCree submission every way it wants.

Every way he wants.

It is only then that he finally lets her scramble away, her legs hot and shaking, her pulse racing. She can’t even feel it in her to be horrified at the wetness on his hairy chest; how it reaches up towards his thick neck and the scruffy beard.

He looks drunk, watching her intently, his big cock swaying in the cool air of the room, flexing towards his belly as she watches it move with fucked-dumb eyes.

He reaches down and curls his fist around himself; tugs once, twice; everything is so quiet as they stare at each other in the aftermath of what her body did - and then she is scrambling forward between his legs, slapping his hands away and diving for his cock, so eager, so desperate to give back what he gave her, face still hot with embarrassment but slowly going back to normal.

She could have had this months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	173. DVa/McCree

It has been D.Va’s idea to let Jesse fuck her in her pretty little girl bed, but he has been more than amiable to the suggestion. He liked the smell of her room and the bright colors. He liked her soft bed sheets when he got to plant his ass on them as she kneeled between his legs and worshiped his cock.

She, on the other hand, liked watching him in the mirror above her bed; peeking just above his shoulder, staring with glassy eyes at the broad man, his hairy ass pumping slowly as he fucked her; deep dicked her with his fat cock that made her see stars and had her knees shaking, spread wide around his sturdy hips as they were.

McCree fucked leisurely; there was no rush, his hips moving in an almost mechanical rhythm: driving in deep until the blunt tip was just shy of kissing up to her womb, then slipping back out, slow, smooth, letting her feel the spread of her cunt straining around the sheer girth.

He fucked so deep it made her tear up, sharp, painted fingernails digging into his meaty shoulders, body primed whenever he pushed in once more, just shy of nudging where it would hurt.

“Damn,” he rumbled, voice deep; she could see the muscles in his back working as he pushed up and out of her clutching fingers. “Got some mean little nails on you.”

And still he kept moving, driving in deep, grinding after his cock and rubbing the coarse bush of his pubes against her swollen, pulsing clit - making her toes curl into the bedding and her anus clench with the sparks of pleasure that pulled her muscles tight and sent waves of warmth through her.

He grins down at her, a roguish slash of teeth, and he looks like he wants nothing more than have a cigar clamped between them; smoke while he’s fucking her, making her pussy spread on his fat cock and watch her slowly lose it as her eyes well up with tears and her ‘mean little nails’ stop attacking his shoulders and instead pinch her own nipples until they’re swollen and inflamed looking.

Her gaze twitches up again, watching his big hirsute body working her on her pink little bed.

Jesse hums thoughtfully, following her look, and grinning up at their reflection. “You’re enjoying the show, hm? If you wanna, I can take a picture of you later. So you’ll have something to remember me by when I’m off on a mission. Just gotta pull out your phone and watch how your cunt was gaping after I was done with ya.

But you’ll not forget my cock that soon, hm? No… No you’ll not forget it any time soon.”

He watches her reflection in the mirror as he grabs her beneath the knees and pulls her into his lap, her abdomen curling up, helpless and speared on his cock, cunt pulsing around him, weakly clenching down on the fat girth.

D.Va just whines and nods arms stretched out, clutching at his strong forearms while he keeps fucking her; just nudging softly now that he’s sitting on his heels, driving in until she feels like she’s going to give birth to his goddamn dick, her belly feeling stupidly tender and swollen.

“Good girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	174. McCree/Reaper Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hated how he got like this. How he needed it, the relief of the word out of his mouth. The shame of it washing over him.

But it was undeniable all the same; he arched his ass up, offering the sweet, warm slit of his hole to Jesse McCree and he sounded like he was choking as he rasped “Daddy…”

He pressed his face into his arms, refusing to look back and see McCree’s smug face. His hands were huge on Gabriel’s hips, squeezing, feeling up how broad they were. How sturdy.

Still, Gabriel felt goddamn small compared to Jesse. He’d filled out almost violently in his time here; the scrawny, mouthy kid suddenly a lumbering tree; tall and thick and hairy.

Gabriel could feel the crisp, dark hair tickling him as he got pulled onto Jesse’s lap, the slide slow and inexorable. There was no way to escape McCree’s lazy dominance. His cocksure knowledge that Gabriel Reyes was in love with his dick and would never deny it.

His thighs are huge and warm and rock hard, forcing Gabriel to spread his knees father; to accommodate their sheer width.

“That’s it,” McCree croons, indistinct, a cigar clamped between his teeth. “What a sweet little hole you have. Such a gorgeous little peach; just for me.”

Gabriel moves his knees, shifts his legs, digs his toes into the bedding. He is restless, his thighs quivering, large chest heaving as he arches some more - offers himself up, cock swinging heavily between his thighs. It feels like a hot, pulsing wound; stuffed full. 

He can feel McCree’s lazy regard. He’s never been impatient; always slow and deliberate; almost obtuse in his fucking. Gabriel had no idea where he learned how to work his body like he did.

McCree shifts behind him. Gabriel can hear him slowly, deeply inhale - and then exhale, the tickle of the smoke blowing in a steady, gentle stream against his clenching hole.

“All just for me,” Jesse purrs and Gabriel almost swallows his tongue.

“Da-…”

Jesse maneuvers him and angles him; using his Commander’s body, slipping the fat, blunt tip of his cock into that warm, prepared space. Gabriel can feel his eyes tear up with the stretch; can feel his tongue starting to loll out because it’s that or try and scramble away from the mind boggling pressure; the feeling of sheer, dumbfounding fullness as McCree starts rocking in slowly, making him stretch, stretch, stretch, filling him up, up, up; one huge hand on Gabriel’s round hip - the other petting him, rubbing soothingly across his back.

“Good boy,” Jesse hums. He shifts, finally, goes up onto his knees and ranges across Gabriel’s body - lets him feel how huge the kid had gotten; his massive thighs slotted in right behind Gabriel’s. “God, you feel so good. Perfect cunt for daddy. Perfect, goddamn cunt.”

Gabriel can’t breathe; the cock has filled out his whole being and doesn’t let him take any more air in. His belly feels swollen; hot. Like he’s filled with warm stones. He feels like he has to be bloated with McCree’s dick. He wants him out. He wants him away. He wants him to move and fuck him and curl one of his thick, hairy arms across Gabriel’s chest and hold him tenderly as he rocked into him.

McCree seemed incapable of really fucking. Maybe he was too lazy. Maybe he was not interested in a quick, hard slap of hips.

All he did was rock and make Gabriel crazy on the length of his barely shifting dick.

“Daddy,” Gabriel whispered, explosively, the shame cresting within him, nipples going hard and painfully sensitive. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

“I gotcha,” McCree rumbles, rubs his unkempt beard against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gotcha. What a perfect little cunt. What a sweet little peach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	175. McCree/Hanzo Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as he loved it - how his daddy fucked him slowly, deeply, overwhelming him till his awareness became nothing but the cock filling him, he hated how lazy he would be. Especially when he said "how about you choose darling'" already reclining against the mass of pillows behind him.

Because Jesse knew how this would go; Hanzo crawling towards him, mouth already watering at the sight of the dark, fat cock lying in the crease of one thigh. 

He’d do all the work; drooling all over it in his greed to fuck his throat, going cross-eyed with the intense presence of Jesse all around him; his large thighs bracketing him securely; his warmth almost sweltering; his scent overpowering his senses - and McCree would simply enjoy the attentions, playing with Hanzo’s hair idly, calling him the sweetest pet names and sometimes, occasionally he would lift his sturdy hips and nudge his cock just a little deeper to hear Hanzo gag on it; see his eyes fill up with tears.

“That’s it,” he’d coo, “You love Daddy’s cock.”

And Hanzo did. He loved Jesse’s dick; he loved his huge, hairy thighs and his wide, sturdy hips. He loved his hirsute belly and broad shoulders. He loved how broad he was; so broad that even a grown men like he was feeling dwarfed and small. 

Secure.

Stupidly, idiotically secure to a point he whispered the endearment once as he rode him, everything so overwhelming, so all consuming, his leg stumps tingling and his fingers twisting into McCree’s chest hair as he took all of his cock until he was sure he had to feel it in the back of his throat; and he’d not even realized he’d whimpered a small, pathetic sounding ‘Daddy’ in midst of the throaty, animalistic groans…

He’d just love it even more if Daddy would dick him down with it too; hold him against the mattress and make him take it. Fill him up until Hanzo felt like begging him to stop; that there couldn’t be even an inch more he could take; that Jesse had to stop cramming that fat, heavy cock into him because otherwise he had to… he… had to…

“Please,” Hanzo whispers, eyes clenched shut, high cheekbones dark with color. He is not well suited to begging. He feels exposed and ridiculous. Enough so that he can feel himself getting mean; can feel the sharp edges just beneath his skin, threatening to lash out at Jesse if he so much as chuckled right now-

“Aw hell, darlin,” the man rumbles. He can hear him move and shift around. He can feel him, too; the mattress dipping and groaning under his weight. “How could I say no to such a sweet invitation?”

And Hanzo gets what he wants - just not in the way he envisioned. It is so much… so much better as McCree crawls over him like a mountain, his strong barrel chest to Hanzo’s shoulder blades, pressing him down as an affectionate, scruffy chin nuzzles the side of his face.

He can barely breathe beneath him. McCree is pressing him down and filling him up in little rolls of his meaty hips and Hanzo can barely get in enough air to gasp.

Jesse fucks like a wave; slow and gentle and unrelenting and Hanzo just about manages to curl his arms around the man’s biceps and hold on as he lets himself get washed away; eyes wide open and unseeing, groaning low, throaty ‘Daddy’s and then, when his cock - wet and swollen and trapped somewhere in the tangle of sheets - jerks and his balls start pulsing in a way that is almost painful, he croaks one ‘Otōsan’.

“My sweet boy,” Jesse sighs above him, one huge paw curling beneath Hanzo’s throat, thumb and forefinger framing his jaw; cradling his chin on his palm as he rocks into him; his orgasm not anywhere close. “Daddy’s so proud of you. Giving him your gorgeous body. What a good little boy you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	176. McCree/Soldier76 Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack was flustered as he shifted on the bed, swallowing hard as he waited for Jesse to come in on the gift he had made himself into. After Gabe told him about their adventures in bed he couldn't help but start drooling over the idea of what paid under the younger mans damn uniform. So he took matters into his own hands, lingerie on that he had stored in his closet, and hoping Jesse was as open as Gabriel said. He hated being desperate but, he was in need of some relief.

He didn’t have to wait long, and he thought Gabriel might have had something to do with it. Maybe he’s seen the limp with which Jack had walked a few days, or he’s noticed how stiff he held his shoulders.

Either way, it is only a few minutes later that McCree strolls in and barely pauses in his wide stride, pushing the door closed behind him as he watches the Strike Commander laid out on his unmade bed.

“Well now.”

Jack shudders and closes his eyes - puts his forearm across them for good measure and angles his knees apart, the fabric of his garter combo gleaming silkily in the dim light.

“Please,” he begs and he can’t see the smirk, but he can definitely hear it as McCree drawls: “How could I say no to that?”

.o.

He notices McCree pausing for a heartbeat when he crawls close enough to see the moisture darkening the fabric of Jack’s panties, but he takes this obviously new relevation just as easily as everything else.

The man has the disposition of a farm horse and never has Jack been more thankful for it.

McCree pushes his legs apart with his wide shoulders and goes to licking slow, long drags along the slit of Morrison’s cunt, generously saturating the fabric of his dark panties with his spit before closing cheeky lips across his swollen clit to suck on it until Jack can’t help but cry out, scrabbling at McCree’s dark hair.

It hurts, but he wants more, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he angles his hips up, grinding his pussy against the lazy, rude mouth. He doesn’t realize he’s making noise, stupidly high pitched whines and near sobs, until McCree’s large hands grab his hips and press him down, his big nose dragging across the sodden fabric along the swollen labia.

“Easy now. Calm down. Everything’s gonna be alright, yeah?”

Jack grits his teeth and presses the balls of his hands against his burning eyes.

“Daddy, please,” he grunts. He feels himself flush, embarrassment curling in his belly until he feels nauseous. He knows Gabriel is playing this game with Jesse but suddenly he thinks McCree might not want to play it with him. Might not be as easy after all and get angry for Jack’s presumptions…

But then he is crawling up, huge hot body ranging above Jack, and his cock is out and dragging along his cunt, teasing with the blunt press across the panties that Jack would rip in a second if he didn’t get what he needed.

“Easy. Eaaasy. There - I got exactly whatchu want. You need a good big cock, don’tcha? Yeah. Yeah, that’s what you need. Don’t worry, I got it right here. Daddy’s got it right… here…”

Jesse has reached down to hook his fingers into the leg hole and push the panties to the side and now he grunts as he dips just the very tip of his cock into Jack’s cunt.

Jack thinks McCree might just be going cross-eyed at the feeling of the molten heat he is nudging into, but it is hard to concentrate on anything when he is getting filled slowly, slowly, no mercy and no hesitation as McCree works his sturdy hips to fuck into him deeper and deeper; every little rocking motion sliding him in a couple inches more until Jack is gritting his teeth and scrabbling at McCree’s shoulders, digging his fingers into his armor because the guy hasn’t even put off his clothes - just opened his pants and got his cock out to satisfy that special itch of the Strike Commander.

“Fuck,” McCree swears, low and heart felt, his cock so big, stretching Jack to the max and making his insides throb in a dull, delicious ache. “That’s a nice cunt. Fuck.”

Jack gnashes his teeth and arches his head back, fingers moving, frantically grabbing at McCree’s hair, then digging blunt into the back of his neck.

“More. More, please,” he rasps. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been filled so completely, so fully, so to the utter maximum what he could take - what he thought he could take. His cunt hurt and his insides throbbed. He could feel McCree’s cock flexing inside him and it makes a small, premature orgasm shiver through him and end in his curling, spasming toes.

“Daddy, please.”

“Shush, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna give it to ya. Fuck. Got such a nice. Goddamn. Cunt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	177. Reaper/Lúcio Sub!Reaper/Dom!Lúcio 8

Gabriel stalks around their home like an agitated cat for days. Lúcio says nothing. He keeps mostly to his room, working on some new mixes, watching out of the corner of his eyes how Gabriel steps into the room every now and then, looking like he got the courage up to say something before his face closes up once more and he retreats.

Lúcio waits. It is a new tactic; usually he seeks to confront conflicts with his submissive and talk them out, but this time he doesn’t feel like taking the first step - feels, in fact, uncharacteristically stubborn in that regard - and he can tell Gabriel is noticing the change. He can also tell that it upsets his submissive, but he feels like backing down now would not gain them anything.

When Gabriel finally does come to him, he is the picture of contrition; big hands positively fumbling with the beanie he wore to work, shoulders hanging. His dark face looks ashen and he is not looking at Lúcio for more than a second.

“Please,” he whispers, clears his throat, though it does not help much; he is still as quiet when he says: “I need… I need discipline. Please.”

Lúcio mutes the TV, his attention focusing on his big, rebellious submissive. Gabriel ducks his head, shoulders pulling up minimally. He looks like he is about to be sick. 

“I am sorry for… for the other day,” he croaks and Lúcio can’t help but smirk a bit. Gabriel is not suited for apologies - in fact, he can count the times his submissive apologized on one hand - and it still sounds like the actual words are sitting in his throat. “I want… I want it to be better. Please, I…” his bushy eyebrows twitch and he glances up at Lúcio with dark, nervous eyes. “Discipline me?”

Lúcio stands up, and feels a rush of affectionate warmth - and it’s been a while since he felt that… worryingly enough - when Gabriel hunches down to accommodate the difference in their height; get himself on level with his short dominant. He puts his forehead against Lúcio’s shoulder and sighs when he feels an affectionate scratch at the back of his neck.

“Very well. Go and clean yourself up for me, you smell of engine oil. And then come back here, hm?”

Gabriel groans, low and hurt sounding, grinding his forehead into Lúcio’s shoulder. He feels like a puppet with its strings cut; like he had been expecting Lúcio to fight him on this.

Finally, he stumbles away; as eager for his discipline as he’s only been in the beginning of their relationship - when he’d still had all those misguided expectations of what a dynamic such as theirs should look like.

.o.

“There you go. Does it hurt?” Lúcio murmurs, eyes fixed on the delicious swell of Gabriel’s testicles through the hole of the humbler. They’re heavy and so ripe looking they way they are presented now.

“No,” Gabriel whispers. He sounds so uncharacteristically meek, and when Lúcio peeks around to see his face, Gabriel’s cheeks and ears are dark with a fierce flush, his eyes wide and unseeing, staring at the floor. He looks like he wants to be anything but here. Like he’s already regretting asking for the discipline, and Lúcio has to laugh despite himself.

“Are you comfortable?”

“No,” Gabriel immediately says and Lúcio snickers, affectionately patting Gabriel’s hip.

“That’s alright. You’ll learn to enjoy it.” He squeezes the swell of his submissive’s ass, then cups the heavy sac without warning because he can’t ignore it when it is so very deliciously on display. It is so very warm in the palm of his hand; the skin soft and vulnerable; the testicles moving easily within.

“You look gorgeous like this. offering your pretty balls up to me.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel murmurs. Lúcio smiles to himself, chest blooming with warmth at how much Gabriel tries to be the perfect submissive.

“We’ll start slow. Don’t be afraid, now.”

.o.

Gabriel takes it better than he thought he would. He wonders whether it is because he tries so very hard to please him, or whether he might have underestimated his submissive.

He startled at the first, harsher tap to his balls, jerking instinctively away and grunting low in pain when the motion immediately made the humbler pull down on his balls.

He’s never been treated to this kind of pain; a very calculated sort of soreness that makes him restless but not dissatisfied. Lúcio has spanked him once or twice, but there is something different about focusing on his testicles. He can’t say why it might be different for Gabriel, but he can see it working in his head; the way he holds himself stiff and confused and the relaxation slowly growing through his body until he kneels sturdy like a bulldog on all fours, head hanging low, grunting with each new slap and simply taking the pain.

Maybe it is because it is sharper. Deeper. It connects with him in a different way than the spankings to his ass.

Lúcio is careful with doling out the discipline. He feels himself getting pulled into it, eyes steady on the erotic bounce of Gabriel’s heavy ball sac; ears tingling with his low, whining, pained grunts. Once or twice, when Lúcio caught his testicles in a certain way, he nearly collapsed to the floor, ass suddenly lowering and a long, drawn out breath wheezing from his lungs - but he always got himself back into position, hips lifting slowly, knees spreading apart… offering his tender testicles up for more slaps.

Lúcio’s cock is tenting his loose shorts, and his head pounds with an almost headache. He’s not been anticipating this; to be so engulfed by the willing pain of his submissive; the sight of his ripe balls offered up for pain; how they look bouncing after each carefully calculated slap.

He can feel himself pulsing out a string of thick pre-cum whenever Gabriel almost crumbles into himself, and finds himself wondering how it would be to break his submissive down like this. His big, stubborn, beautiful submissive just folding in on himself from a sharp smack into his gorgeous, low hangers… his strained voice grunting out a…

“What do you say?” he suddenly pants, feeling feverish, his hand heavy and restraining between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, grounding him; making him feel more safe during his punishment.

Gabriel looks bleary and out of it. His cheeks are wet, but so is the rest of his face. He is sweating and shivering, his cock not quite half hard. He looks so confused; like he doesn’t know whether he likes this.

“Wha…?”

“Your dominant gives you what you asked for. What do you say?” Lúcio’s voice almost takes on a begging lilt. He is as much a slave of his submissive as his submissive is to him. His cock pulses once more, his hand curling around the heavy, hot weight of Gabriel’s swollen balls, squeezing just this side of too harsh.

Gabriel grunts, back going straight at the sudden new kind of pain. His jaw hangs open, tongue almost lolling out. He is close to drooling and Lúcio almost wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; shake the words out of his gorgeous submissive.

“Th-thank you,” Gabriel finally says, tongue stumbling over the words. Lúcio’s cock surges, flexing in his shorts, and he slaps Gabriel’s balls once more as a treat for good behavior - and then again and again just because Gabriel is thanking him each time, low and groaned; so grateful to his dominant for the abuse of his heavy, throbbing testicles.

Lúcio drags him around by his shoulder, hand a little rougher than usual in his handling with the submissive. He fumbles with the waistband of his loose biker shorts, pulling them down until his cock springs free - and Gabriel doesn’t have to be told what to do; simply dives down onto the dick and drools all over it.

His blowjob is too wet, too messy, but Lúcio can’t bring himself to make him slow down - he’s caught sight of Gabriel’s back in the mirror; can watch the dark red flush of his humbled ballsack while getting sloppily serviced by his eager, needy submissive; and it doesn’t take him long at all until he fills him up in thick pulses right down his throat - not when Gabriel is so very sweet and attentive and half down into subspace.

A large, affection starved dog that crawls over him, cum in his beard, movements awkward because of the humbler tying his balls.

“I am sorry,” he mumbles against Lúcio’s jaw, and Lúcio clumsily pats his shoulders, ears still ringing, toes prickling from how urgently he’d come.

“Everything is good now,” he promises him a bit indistinct; tongue not quite doing what he wants it to. “We’re fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	178. McCree/Zenyatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta being curious about McCree after genji telling him about the other man. Figuring out how laid back and easygoing the man is in regards to sex and wanting to know how well he can take that thick cock inside of him. McCree being so big he barely fits and zenyatta swearing he can see the iris as he gets fucked nice and slow.

Zenyatta so thin and silvery beneath this hirsute bulk of a man; McCree ranging above him like a mountain, cigar in the corner of his mouth, watching under heavy lidded eyes as he stares down between Zenyatta’s legs and contemplates that small robotic pussy he’s been presented with.

He’s got one big hand under Zenyatta’s ass, lifting him up for better perusal. He reaches for his cigar and ashes off into a tray to the side before he thinks better of it and leaves it there to peacefully glow as he takes his cock in hand and lifts it up to smear the head along those pretty, silicon teal folds because his cock is too heavy to stand on its own.

“You sure this’ll fit?” he mumbles a bit dubiously, pressing closer, making Zenyatta spread around the blunt, broad tip. Zenyatta’s voice glitches, his long fingered hands patting nervously at McCree’s barrel chest and thick belly; very careful so he won’t catch any of the dark hair between the joints. “Yes, it will.. it will adapt.”

And McCree hums in contemplation and then shrugs his shoulders and nods and starts going to work.

moves his broad hips in little, rocking thrusts; coaxes his dick in inch by inch and making that pretty little fabricated cunt spread around him. He can hear the soft humming of tiny machines as they scrabble to readjust; can feel the slick, welcoming interior open up around him but just barely enough to allow entrance - and all in all it is a very smooth entry, all considered; only that Zenyatta’s voicebox is crackling with a fuzzy sound, the lights on his forehead all individually dimming and brightening in uneven intervals.

Jesse asks him if he’s alright but he seems to be totally zoned out; like getting spread by so much dick had his processors reeling.. which is pretty flattering, since he hasn’t even done any work yet.

McCree slowly starting to fuck; a very easy, almost sloppy rocking motion of his hips, eyes still heavy lidded, almost bored looking as he fucks, if not for the small slip of tongue at the corner of his mouth and the steep fold between his bushy eyebrows as he concentrates on dicking Zenyatta slow and even; listening to the obscene squelch of his artificial cunt and how it suckles him in again and again, the silicone lips hugging tight around his dick and kissing up to his balls whenever he pushes in especially deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	179. McCree/Zenyatta

McCree hums tunelessly; it is mostly a sloppy chain of sounds rumbling from his chest as he stares down at his work, shaggy chin on his collarbones, cigar clenched between his teeth in concentration.

“Easy now,” he grunts, big hand on the small of Zenyatta’s back, finger curling around the wide row of bright red cables there. He almost tugs, but Zenyatta goes stiff, his vocals climbing up high and nervous. He’s tittering like a bird and Jesse quickly lets go again, patting at the cables. “That’s alright. No need to fuss around. Ol’ Jesse McCree gotcha.”

He settles for carefully holding the omnic’s waist, big hand able to curl around it in a way that makes his head a little woozy. He never realized how slight of a thing Zenyatta really was.

“That’s right.” He mumbles; tapers off into non-words, probably, as he focuses back on the task at hand; watches himself press his cock against the jutting silicone lips of Zenyatta’s cunt; how they were already dripping with teal fluid, dripping down in sticky strands towards the bed.

His teeth dig in harder into the cigar. It is unlit, but he likes having it between his lips anyway. It is a nice distraction from the tight cunt he is slowly shoving his cock into. Zenyatta opens up for him like a flower, vocals crackling, metal fingers curling carefully into the bedding - calculating not to destroy anything even when he was getting split open by a cock.

Zenyatta is surprisingly easy to fuck. McCree had wondered about it idly - as he usually did while jerking off, thoughts meandering from one team member to the other; thinking about how they’d be when he stuffed them with his dick. How well they’d take it.

He hadn’t thought Zenyatta would be so easy to bend. He hadn’t thought he’d be so delightfully receptive to it: his voice static and high pitched, groaning whenever Jesse pressed in again, cramming a little more of his dick in, making him take him to the absolute hilt and lifting his hips up in the process until his small metal ass was in the air, pulsing, pouting cunt almost pointing to the ceiling.

He let himself get rearranged and mounted and didn’t speak one word of complaint about McCree making him bear his weight: leaning heavily with one big hand between his shoulder blades as he fucked him like an ape, teeth bared around the cigar, growling faintly as he dicked downwards, thighs burning from the awkward half-crouch.

Zenyatta just took it and sang for him, occasionally giving off steam in hissing, damp clouds as he tried to keep cool when McCree gave his cute little omnic cunt hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	180. Reaper/Lúcio Dom!Reaper/Sub!Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think you deserve a treat." luciper please~

“I think you deserve a treat.”

Lúcio quivers in anticipation, eyes still fixed on Reaper - his gaze adoring and a little wet with unshed tears.

Reaper’s clawed hand cradles his chin, thumb slowly rounding the soft gape of the boy’s open mouth. His jaw had to be hurting already, but he was as obedient as ever. A sweet little pet that was so very eager to please its Master.

Reaper dips his thumb in, rubbing across the soft pad of his tongue.

“You want a treat, don’t you?” he purrs, unendingly amused when Lúcio softly goes “uh huh”, trying so very hard not to close his mouth; his cherry red uvula bouncing with the motion.

“Very well. Such an obedient doll.”

Lúcio nearly goes cross eyed when Reaper pushes the spongy tip of his cock between his plush lips, his tongue cautiously fluttering up against the foreskin - and when Reaper doesn’t reprimand him, just sighs in relief - he starts wriggling the tip beneath the loose skin, lapping at the swelling glans underneath.

Already his goatee is getting sticky with spit but he looks so very happy being allowed to kneel on the floor and suckle his Master’s dick. Reaper doesn’t think he’ll ever give the boy back to those Overwatch goons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	181. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't cover your face . I want to see you." R76?

“Don’t cover your face. I want to see you.”

The command is spoken with a certain bark; sharp and nearly aggressive as the Soldier tightens his grip around Reaper’s ankles and pushes them farther up until his feet hang in the air and his knees are nearly at his chest.

Reaper groans, hands twitching where he put them across his face. He is only half-undressed, the Soldier had been too eager to get at his hole, but Jack is more than ready to rectify the situation.

“Stop it,” he tells him again, then lets his legs fall onto his shoulders so he can shove at his shirt, fingers slipping on the clasps of his armor until he can finally ruck it up beneath his pits.

Reaper is watching him, eyes glowing a faint red between his fingers. He looks angry, yet still he lets himself get used obediently, lying back whenever Jack has a need - whenever he can’t stop staring at Reaper’s ass, fantasizing about that sweet, accommodating hole beneath. He’ll always spread his legs for Jack. The Soldier.

Always let him fuck him like a cheap whore; let him bark orders and follow them along like a mutt, eager to debase himself.

He is addicted to the burn of Jack’s cock; the stretch, and the pain that comes from his sharp, merciless fucking.

“Don’t cover your face,” Jack grunts again, a vein swelling on his forehead the more he exerts himself, fucking doggedly into the warm cunt -

and Reaper finally pulls his hands away; shows him how he dug his sharp teeth into his lips, trying not to whine as he gets fucked; red eyes a little wet as he stares at his own legs bouncing obscenely in the air.

It’s a little hard breathing like this - but at least he doesn’t need as much oxygen anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	182. Reaper/McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're so beautiful, all spread out like this, just for me." McReyes please <3

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out like this, just for me,” Jesse purrs. He is sitting in his boss’ chair, and Gabriel can’t take his eyes off of him, even spread out on his desk as he is; big fist around his big, hard cock.

Jesse has gotten big since working in Blackwatch; filled out until the chair looked like it had to be begging for mercy; thighs thick and arms corded with muscle, and dark with hair.

His hands are so very big in their dark leather gloves. Gabriel thinks about how they would feel spanking him, and he can’t help but shiver - doesn’t know whether it is from longing or fear.

He is a little afraid of Jesse’s huge, capable hands, and the sudden knowledge makes his mouth run dry.

“Come sit on my lap, pet,” Jesse murmurs, dark eyes heavy lidded, wide mouth curled in a lazy smirk. He doesn’t comment on how clumsy Gabriel is in his haste to get down from the desk and up into Jesse’s space - he merely spreads his legs wider; creating a nice, broad seat for Gabriel to make himself comfortable in; his hard cock rubbing against the rough fabric of Jesse’s shirt.

His breath hitches when Jesse’s hands land on his ass; large and warm even through the black leather of his gloves. They’re gentle; squeezing and holding on as Jesse hooks his scruffy chin across Gabriel’s shoulder and rubs one hand slowly up his back.

“Sshhh… you looked like a dear caught in the headlights,” he rumbles, other hand affectionately squeezing Gabriel’s ass. “No need to worry one bit. Got something nice planned for ya. Because you’ve been such a good boy.”

Gabriel shudders and leans into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	183. Genji/Zenyatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why don't you pick out your favorite toy so we can get started." Maybe genyatta??? Or any other ship you can think of

Zenyatta hesitates, eyes flinching to the side where Genji has laid out all their toys on the bed - then smiles brightly, eyes almost closing; looking like a lucky cat for all intents and purposes - and crawls over while Genji is still reeling from the sight, biting his knuckle, and wondering once more how he could have convinced someone like Zenyatta to stay with him, instead of being just one of his many meaningless one-night-stands.

He watches as the monk crawls, his lovely brown skin shimmering silkily in the sun streaming into the room, his pretty cock and balls swinging between his slim, bare thighs.

He’s not as curvaceous as Genji normally likes them - in fact, he has no curves at all other than the shaved roundness of his head - but still Genji is infatuated with him. With his way to talk and move… like he is moving now; crawling with a strange sort of grace as he makes his way over to the bed and peruses the items from up close.

His face becomes darker with an eager flush. Genji has yet to find something that would make his submissive squirm in embarrassment. As sweet as Zenyatta is, the depths of his depravity seemed to know no bound.

Finally, he takes a hold of one of the toys - the anal beads - and makes his way back to his Dominant; head held high and his choice swinging left and right from his mouth, the golden silicone beads gently knocking together.

He looks so proud of himself, Genji can’t help but frame his face between his hands when he is back in reach, pressing little moist kisses against the dots on his forehead.

“You’re such a good boy,” he tells him, kisses wandering farther down until he presses them all over Zenyatta’s soft, occupied mouth.

The monk’s eager flush travels down, dusting his shoulders and the top of his flat chest; small dark nipples going hard from the praise.

“Can’t wait to stuff you full with them,” Genji groans when he pulls back, tugging Zenyatta’s choice toy from between his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	184. Reinhardt/Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you're such a good boy" reinhardt/reaper please? <3

“You’re such a good boy.”

Reinhardt has to strain to nuzzle at Reaper’s cheek, big hand tightening around his thigh, keeping him close as he rocks into him from behind.

Reaper doesn’t have too much leverage lying on his side, but he still tries his best to get away when he hears Reinhardt cooing at him, the tips of his ears burning and his clawed fingers digging holes into the comforter.

“Shut up,” he growls. Reinhardt chuckles like it is the sweetest thing and rubs his bearded chin along Reaper’s shoulders. He gently nudges forward, pushing in deeper in a slow, unrelenting press that has Reaper groaning and wheezing, breath seemingly punched out by the mind boggling stretch of Reinhardt’s cock.

“Pretty little cocksleeve.”

Reinhardt glances down, watching the soft girth of reaper’s cock against his thigh; drooling out cum and making a mess out of everything; getting milked by the sheer pressure of Reinhardt’s massive cock pressing against his prostate and not moving more than a couple inches with the man’s almost lazy rocking.

“Letting me milk you like a good boy… You love it when I deny you your orgasms, don’t you?”

He kisses Reaper’s hot ear, eyes fluttering closed when that warm little hole clenches down tightly around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	185. McCree/Hanzo Prostate Milking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's it, keep cumming - mchanzo pls?

“Thaaat’s it,” McCree croons, eyes alight on Hanzo’s face. It is twisted, eyes clenched shut, teeth bared; glinting with sweat as he shudders, the impressive muscles of his belly clenching again and again. “Keep coming, babydoll.”

Hanzo’s hands are at his head, fingers curled into his palms. That he hasn’t tried to reach for Jesse yet - tried wrenching his hand away from his cock or push his fingers out from his ass - speaks volumes about the insane self-discipline of his submissive.

He can’t believe how much Hanzo is coming; how his cock hasn’t stopped lazily drooling cum for almost a minute now - the wet dick flexing in McCree’s loose grip as his fingers press against Hanzo’s prostate with unrelenting but gentle pressure, minutely rubbing to stimulate him.

There are tears at the corners of his eyes, and as Jesse watches, one tear rolls down his his temple, vanishing in his greying hair. He looks like he is being tortured; the pool of cum on his stomach widening and slipping in sticky drops down the sides of his shivering belly.

“Good boy. That’s it. Damn, babydoll… you were being so good for me, were you? Not touching your pretty cock for days, just like I said… look how much you can come for me.”

Hanzo’s jaw unclenches for just a moment; long enough to let him sob, his head throwing back, throat stretched and bulging, flushing a dark red as he keeps coming on Jesse’s finger, his body shaking and hips jerking in small thrusts up and back; jittery as if he were being electrocuted - more tears slipping from his eyes.

“Just a little longer,” Jesse croaks, boyishly fascinated by Hanzo’s absolute submission. “Just a tiny bit longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	186. McCree/Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why don't you move your hips for me, hm" please for mcreyes?

Jesse flushes dully. He looks a second away from throwing out a stupid one-liner and destroying the mood. Gabriel snaps his fingers once, sharp to get the man’s attention and murmurs: “Why don’t you move your hips for me, hm?” before Jesse can think of more than how uncomfortable the situation makes him.

McCree’s face shuts down and he turns his head away - which is a shame; Gabriel loves seeing when his boy has fun - but he does move; a slow swaying of his thick hips.

He moves slowly, tests out the waters, and when Gabriel just keeps watching, he garners some momentum and slowly lifts his arms, hands grabbing at his messy hair.

Gabriel hums low, rough, is mesmerized by the sight of Jesse’s biceps flexing; the tight shirt stretching impossibly across his shoulders and wide chest.

He dances to no music other than the soft jingling of his spurs whenever he shuffles his feet; turning slightly to let Gabriel have a better view of his broad hips; the strong profile of his thighs and the roundness of his ass.

“Magnificent,” Gabriel sighs, slipping a little lower, fiddling with a cigarette.

Jesse’s face is mostly obscured; turned away and angled towards the floor as it is - but between the strands of his messy hair he can see the sharp white grin of the man.

Seems his boy has found the merit in the task after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	187. Roadhog/Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I bet that hurt good, didn't it darling?" With mercyhog please but dom!mercy (maybe it involves some pegging?)

Mercy furrows her brow, pulls in a deep breath, readies herself, then jerks forward, hips slamming against her sub without hurting; he is soft all over; a nice pillow for her to fuck against.

Still, he grunts, his head coming up; suddenly alert after almost dozing away from her meticulous slow preparations.

“I bet that hurt good, didn’t it, darling?” she coos, her small hands petting what she can reach. She looks ridiculously small behind his massive form, which only excites her more: she loves how this huge man is submitting to her. Wordlessly, gracelessly in most cases, but letting her play with him all the same. 

He could probably crush her head in one of his meaty fists but he elects to be as docile as a kitten; even going so far as to let her fuck his massive ass. His hole is a sweet, untouched little thing; so responsive to her fingers as she started petting it.

Hog has been so very quiet; even more so than usually, though his breathing had been louder; deeper; more wheezing. She can’t tell if it is because he is lying mostly on his huge gut, or whether it comes from her innocent little strap-on fucking him - until, that is, she starts fucking him.

Her hands on his soft, wide hips, her brow crinkled in exertion as she tries getting enough leverage to really give it to him, though her gentle demeanor keeps her from being too rude; the dirty talk always transforming into gentle praise somewhere between her overactive brain and her mouth.

“God, you’re so good to me,” she murmurs, lying forward, small, soft tits pressing into the small of his back as she lies on him like she would on a bed, her hips rocking like in a dream, eyes going heavy lidded. She wants a video of her fucking him; wants to see how she is so tiny against his huge form; how ridiculous it looks when she dicks him - and how very sweet he is for her, his face all soft and gentle… his fat jiggling with every small jolt she can fuck into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	188. McCree/Hanzo Macro/Micro

Winston had said the effects of the machine would not hold on for long; that they needn’t worry about any prolonged aftereffects.

Jesse wasn’t sure how right he was; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forget the sight of Hanzo being shrinked to little more than thumb sized - and not for the reason anybody else wouldn’t be able to forget.

Yes, at first it had been funny; especially since Hanzo just stared back at their laughing faces with the utmost impassiveness. By now, almost a week later… it was… it was hot.

McCree couldn’t stop looking. Hanzo was as delicate as a tiny doll; his features so small and still so perfect, tiny body a marvel - and so very very familiar to McCree.

Familiar enough that he wondered how it would be if he…

.o.

He couldn’t believe Hanzo was letting him do this to him.

Sitting in his palm, letting himself get carefully peeled out of his perfect little clothes while leaning back, tiny hand bracing against the ball of McCree’s thumb.

He was showing off; arching his back, presenting his small tits with the minuscule pink nipples. When Jesse reaches for him, his blunt, large forefinger looked obscene; the rough skin almost too much for the small bump of Hanzo’s nipple. Still - he could feel the tiny peak. Could see Hanzo’s face go lax, mouth dropping open.

There was no way for him to fuck this miniature version of his lover; he had been thinking about it, feverishly, fucking into his fist, wondering if he could maybe, with just enough lube, squeeze the very tip of his pinky into that horribly tiny opening-

(He’d wondered, staring down at the sight of his big, brutish fingers curled around his big, brutish cock - how it would be to have Hanzo curled around it; lapping at the glans with his tiny tongue; playing with the silky, generous foreskin with both goddamn hands. He’d wondered how it would be to have Hanzo’s whole body curled around his dick and squeezing it like…-)

“Jesse…” Hanzo’s voice was barely audible to human ears; he flushed, pressing his lips into a straight, strict line. He didn’t like talking in front of any of them; still, his body was more than eloquent; naked and tiny and perfect, his little cock cautiously interested. He was just as confused over this developments as Jesse.

Jesse stared, curled his thumb around, brought it between Hanzo’s legs, holding his lover in the palm of his hand; and carefully, gently pressed it against those perfect, round balls; sitting small and delicate beneath the line of Hanzo’s cock.

Hanzo’s eyes went wide, thighs spasming around Jesse’s digit; then he moved: jack knifing forward and curling around the thumb, hugging to it tightly, eyes clenched shut in a way that Jesse was wondering if he had hurt him - until he heard the noise; the soft little sigh that Hanzo allowed himself before he started jerking his hips, his small ass dragging against the wide palm of Jesse’s hand.

He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving his lover making love to his goddamn thumb; dragging his junk against the rough skin of it.

He wondered how Hanzo would like to get licked; bathing him in his tongue. Maybe dragging it across that tiny, rosy hole he had.

Oh god…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	189. McCree/Hanzo Docking

McCree’s cock was… fascinating. Hanzo has never played with one that made him work to get his tongue at the glans; hidden in velvety foreskin even when fully erect; so erect that it was hanging at an awkward half-mast; trying to stand up but too heavy with blood to actually do so.

He’s never played with a cock that had such a generous fold of foreskin; one that he could suckle into his mouth, tongue questing to dip into the opening, searching for the blunt, sticky tip of McCree’s cock beneath.

McCree seemed to love it. There was no self-consciousness in his demeanor; he groaned and shifted, hips lifting, offering up his cock, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Hanzo slurped and sucked; getting everything messy with spit because there was no way he could neatly play with McCree’s cock; not when it felt so good to wriggle his tongue into the silky folds of the hood covering McCree’s glans and try to wriggle between foreskin and tip; lapping at the generous amounts of pre-cum gathered there.

The best - the most fascinating - thing about the whole situation, however, was when McCree half rolled on top of him with a low grunt, body hot and heavy against his side, murmuring: “Watch this” as he palmed his large fist around his big cock and jerked off lazily; showing Hanzo for a few moments how the foreskin would roll down and show off the smooth, wet tip of his cock before practically snapping across it once again; tight and a little rubbery and making Hanzo’s mouth water.

It was not the only thing - the main thing - that Jesse wanted to show him, though.

What he did want to show him was how good his foreskin felt around his cock - lining both of them up, tip to tip, his large fist having pulled back just to slowly glide upwards again; Hanzo watching, eyes wide, mouth hanging open as Jesse’s foreskin slipped smoothly across the wide head of his fat cock; and then easily - laughably so - enveloped the tip of his own dick.

It was… it was embarrassing; maybe even humiliating to watch how far it could engulf him; Jesse’s fingers eager to manipulate the silky skin; pulling and tugging on it, making it stretch farther to encompass more of Hanzo’s admittedly small cock… engulfing it more than halfway down before there really was no give any more to have - and Hanzo…

Hanzo couldn’t believe the feeling; the heat of the velvety skin around him; the wetness as Jesse’s generously leaking pre-cum seeped down and began wetting him; smoothing the way for Jesse to curl his big fist around the join of their cocks and jerk them off together, the movement not much but making Hanzo want to fuck forward; fuck into Jesse’s foreskin like he would deep dick a fleshlight.

Tears shot into his eyes, nose running as he felt the intense pleasure of bumping their sensitive tips together while getting fucked by Jesse’s generous, his… his long foreskin.

“Oh God,” he grunted, teeth gnashing, hand jerking up to claw at Jesse’s bicep. “Oh God…” He is wheezing, abdomen hot, cock jerking as the smaller tip bumps against Jesse’s dick; then glances off, dragging in a small circle around the fat glans; pressing against his foreskin from the inside until Jesse’s nostrils flare and he breathes deeper. Heavier.

Hanzo comes too fast. Way too fast. Humiliatingly fast. He jerks and gurgles, swallowing down the warning that would have come too late anyway as his hips start jerking and he does fuck Jesse’s foreskin after all, little aborted minute thrusts as he creams inside the silky folds until it bubbles out around his cock in an unbelievable mess.

Jesse slowly pulls back, dark eyes turned down, watching how rosy Hanzo’s cock looks even beneath the smear of cum. He keeps staring as he begins jerking himself; using Hanzo’s cum in his foreskin as lube; grunting low at the filthy squelching noises it makes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	190. Genji/Zenyatta; Zenyatta/Reaper Sloppy Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a gift and continuation to this

Gabriel can feel the sweat sliding down his throat. It itches but he is too disciplined to reach up and wipe at it – he merely looks on, impassive, hands folded behind his back, feet planted a precise shoulder width apart. He is quiet and unobtrusive, guarding the door and watching his boss fuck the little dancing monk.

It would be hypnotic; the clench and release of his ass between the smooth, brown thighs as he fucks him – if not for the soft, breathy moans accompanying his young Master’s ministrations, ensuring that Gabriel could not possibly zone out; couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention, cock pulsing in his trousers, sweat slowly beading on his forehead and sliding down his temples.

The monk is bound with silk; Gabriel had been very careful as he pulled him out of the fray of the other dancers – he should not be hurt by the bite of rough rope.

As is, he wonders if they would have needed the restrictions in the first place. He stares at the long, thin legs of the dancer – ungainly sprawled to both sides of his young Master’s hips, toes curling and smooth thighs clenching with every inward thrust, smooth and deep and coaxing out those delightful little noises.

He watches, transfixed, as the monk starts reciprocating; lifting his hips in shivery small jumps, hiccuping out needy groans behind the silky gag Gabriel had forced between his white little teeth.

Who would have thought what a little bombshell the young monk would be? Needing to get held down as his young Master comes, hands grasping a little desperately at the monk’s slim hips until he can hold him down and make him stay still as Genji rut in deep, humping, emptying himself with a low guttural groan; needing what undoubtedly was the warm, silky-wet clutch of the monk’s insides to steadily hug his cock as he filled him – Gabriel could see the pulse of his cock even from his position; the almost laborious swell and contraction of it.

His own cock is sensitive and swollen, tenting his pants obscenely – still, his face is impassive as his Master rolls from his little conquest and flops down next to him, idly glancing over to his bodyguard.

Gabriel’s eyes flick towards him for a second, shielded by the dark of his sunglasses, and then back to the monk who is lying there, breathing heavily, his slim chest with dark, small nipples rising and falling in big gulps as he is sprawled and sweaty, long slim cock dark with blood and painfully hard looking.

As Gabriel watches, a dribble of cum oozes from between his cheeks, sliding along the inner curve of his ass – and it mesmerizes him enough that his young Master has to repeat his question, mouth stretched into a broad satisfied grin.

“…You want a piece of that?”

.o.

Gabriel does.

He does want a piece of that.

His boss is a nice enough guy; for the spoiled son of a yakuza crime lord – but he’s never asked Gabriel if he wants a taste of the little sluts he pulls into his bed. Never asked if he wants to test drive one of them after he’s fucked them and left them pretty much bloated with cum.

Not that Gabriel has ever particularly wanted to get his dick into one of them. They were all pretty enough; gorgeous and exotic and just about interesting enough to pull his boss’s attention for a night.

This one, however…

He is loosening his tie marginally as he walks closer, eyes intent, peering over the rim of his glasses and watching as Genji pulls on the monk’s jutting hip, his facial expression impishly gleeful as he rolls him onto his front.

The monk grunts as his cock gets squished between his shivery belly and the mattress but he looks to be too uncoordinated to do anything about it.

What he does is flop uselessly: his long slim legs feebly kicking out, his plump ass – seemingly the only thing on his body that had any fat to speak of – jiggling for his captors’ viewing pleasure.

Genji cackles and grabs the soft cheeks roughly; kneads them first, then pulls them open, and Gabriel pulls in a sharp breath, hands dropping to his pants, eyes intent on the swollen, raw looking gape of the monk’s hole. It is messy; cum dribbling out even as his boss tries to push it back with rough fingers, making the monk whine and shudder under their watchful, heated gazes.

Gabriel doesn’t get naked. It is enough to have his cock out and his throat no longer restricted by the sharp knot of the tie. He is, if he is honest, a little nervous that his boss might think better of it. That the glazed-over stare he has on the monk’s little fucked out cunt means he is rearing up for a second round and will snatch it away right in front of Gabriel’s nose.

So he is a bit over eager as he grabs the dancer’s thin ankles and drags him close with a rough tug. They feel dainty in his large hands. It gets his blood boiling.

The monk groans at the treatment, his high cheekbones dark with a flush, eyes peeking back at both of them over his shoulder.

He doesn’t look afraid.

Gabriel wonders if that would have changed if he had been able to see his dick; obscenely swollen with blood. Thick and dark and looking like a weapon.

As is, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for.

His ass is as supple and squishy as it looks. It dimples eagerly beneath his grasping hands and feels like silk.

Gabriel can’t get enough of the brown of his skin; the sight of him naked and vulnerable before them when they both couldn’t have been assed to fully undress.

His hole is a goddamn mess; sticky and used-up and almost uncomfortably warm after getting reamed by his boss – but that makes the experience only better.

He is loose enough not to need any preparation; loose enough that he tilts his head forward and rests his forehead against the bedding when Gabriel nudges the tip inside.

He sighs and wriggles. He seems to think that is all; that he’ll get filled comfortably once more; will get fucked with the same rabbit thrusts that have warmed his belly up earlier.

Gabriel still has one hand around his ankle, making him bend his leg to the side, giving himself enough room to navigate. He is quiet, not speaking a word as he starts to slowly fuck inside. Let the little dancer realize his error on his own.

His boss is lounging to the side, fingers around his half-hard cock, still sticky from the dancer’s greedy insides, and they both can see the exact moment when he realizes-

His head shoots up.

He squirms.

He doesn’t look as comfortable anymore as Gabriel inches his way inside, the bulk of his cock starting to stretch him more and more. He looks uncomfortable, sweat springing up on his forehead as he glances back again, eyes wide, little sounds of near-distress spilling from his throat.

With his arms bound and one of his ankles still held firmly, there is little he can do about this. He capitulates laughably easy; the quivering grip of his insides slackens. He feels feverishly hot and swollen around Gabriel’s cock, probably from the reaming he’s had already, but even so, he is tight and welcoming around the fatter dick.

It squelches when he fucks in slow, even thrusts, cum frothing around his dick and sticking tacky in his pubes – and he never would have thought he would be into fucking the sloppy cunt of one of his boss’ whores, while his boss is watching him, nonetheless… but he kind of likes it.

Likes it a lot.

The dancer is responsive and sensitive, whining into his gag as he gets fucked slow and intimate, his ass having to stretch around a new girth and taking to it admirably. Gabriel has half a mind to push one hand beneath him and grab at his cock; give him a nice tight tunnel to fuck his slim pretty dick into, but something halts him before he can do so.

He listens to the low hiccups; the nasty squelch of his boss’ cum around his dick, and thinks that he doesn’t want to destroy the moment so soon. The dancer sounds mesmerizing in his desperation, ass clenching hot around him, quivering, milking; unconsciously perfect to take dick – and he doesn’t want him to stop too soon; have him think he can stop his desperate, clumsy little efforts and just melt into the bedding in a post-coital stupor.

His boss seems to be on the same page; because when Gabriel glances over, nostrils flaring, mouth pressed into a tight line as he fucks, Genji is grinning broad and mean, cock on its best way to be ready for another round…

And he wonders how long they can keep this up; fuck the little slut and warm his belly up with load after load, rubbing against the sensitive, overeager swell of his prostate and refusing to lend him a hand and let him come like he so obviously needs.

He wonders if he, too, will be allowed a second round; because he wants to fuck him on his back; hold his legs up and apart so his long, graceful dancer feet bounce in the air as he’s getting fucked like a cheap one-dollar-whore. He wants to be able to get at those meager little tits and bite at his tiny nipples until he is crying.

He wants to ruin the little dancer with the perfect cunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	191. McCree/Reaper; Genji/Reaper Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For daddy kinks I've always liked Gabe being a daddy for his Blackwatch boys. It's stressful, demanding, dirty business in BW where PTSD and burnout are constant problems, so he likes to take care of them by helping them unwind. They can just let go, leave it all behind, feeling safe and protected in his care because no matter what happens in the field he'll always be there to bring them home.

Genji’s chin is lying in Gabriel’s hand; the only thing holding him up. His dark eyes are rolled up to watch his Commander’s face, their iris only a faint, glittering red.

He looks adoring; like he is not quite in this plane of existence; and when Gabriel reaches behind him with his other big hand, playing at some vital cables tucked into the nape of his neck, Genji’s eyes nearly roll up into his head.

“What a good boy you are,” Gabriel murmurs, shifting his knees apart, planting his elbow on his thigh to have a better grip on Genji’s jaw; cradling it until he is nearly holding his throat as well.

The cyborg is dropping more of his weight onto him; letting him carry all of it while Gabriel’s fingers slowly twist the thick cable within the socket. He could cause tremendous, crippling damange if he were to pull it out now, yet Genji almost goes cross-eyed with pleasure, gurgling vaguely behind his mask. He looks close to overloading and Gabriel hasn’t played with him for more than half an hour.

“You love it when Daddy takes his time with you, hm?” he murmurs, voice low and calm, twisting a bit more sudden; a bit more harsh at the cable.

Genji twitches as if in shock, eyes tearing up.

Angela has not yet modeled him a cock, but he is still capable of orgasms.

“Maybe we should wait for your brother… have him lick your little nodes until you overload…”

He lets go of the thick cables in Genji’s neck and slides around, pressing at the release mechanisms of his mask to pull it away. Genji is damn near drooling and snotty, mouth gaping softly as he enjoys the session, scarred, muscular body lax between Gabriel’s bracketing thighs.

“But you were such a good little boy for daddy,” he coos, hand going back to playing with Genji’s vital mechanisms after putting the mask to the side; “Such a good boy killing all those bad guys… You’re daddy’s pretty weapon, aren’t you?”

Genji is groaning low and drawn out. He nods - but only to turn his head and rub his face into Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel holds him; lets him wipe his wet mouth against the ball of his thumb.

He reaches towars the delicate little vents along his ribcage and blocks them with the pad of his thumb for small seconds; pressing down and releasing just as quickly because Genji doesn’t need much like this; just someone to play with his body; to croon at him low and soothing, even if it were just nonsense words.

Maybe he would go through the backlogs later - though Gabriel doubted it much.

He jerks with every little blockade of his vents, his mechanical whine gaining in desperation; urgency.

“You wanna come before your brother comes? He can make love to you later…”

Genji grunts, body slowly going taut; electricity practically crackling around him as his body primes itself for an orgasm.

“Yeah… good boy. Come for daddy. I’m so proud of you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


	192. Genji/Zenyatta; Zenyatta/Mondatta Dragon

Zenyatta and Mondatta, while usually perfectly content with each other’s company – more than content, even – found themselves in the peculiar situation of being lonely after their move to Japan.

The house Mondatta had bought was big and beautiful; it was easy to feel at home in such a gorgeous scenery, nature practically at their fingertips – not able to stop staring at the soft sway of tree branches in the wind or the lively splash of the carps in their pond whenever they ventured close enough because the fish were intelligent and spoiled and neither of them had the heart not to throw them a few crumbs whenever walking by.

Still, it was surprisingly, almost disconcertingly empty feeling. Too big for two quiet, peaceful men.

It was easy to come to the conclusion that they needed to find a pet to occupy their time – have something to shower with love and affection other than each other.

And then they had met Genji.

.o.

“You will have no problems, will you? I will only be gone for a few hours…”

Mondatta has folded his tall frame almost in half, leaning above his brother still nestled in their bed. His long, smooth hands have framed Zenyatta’s face, keeping it tilted up for small, affectionate kisses against his soft lips.

Zenyatta is pliant for the treatment even though his brother’s constant worrying has him mildly annoyed. His arms are curled around Genji’s massive head lying on his slim chest and keeping him pinned to the mattress.

“Of course,” he murmurs against Mondatta’s mouth, feeling the constant swipe of his thumbs slowly come to a halt. “Genji will keep me company and be a very effective bodyguard for any eventualities.”

His hand pets down the rough fur on top of Genji’s head which in turn is trailing down in a stiff ridge along the dragonling’s spine and to the very tip of his long, strong tail. Genji rumbles behind the muzzle they still keep on him, going cross-eyed with pleasure.

Mondatta looks unsure for a moment longer, then nods and presses one last, chaste kiss against Zenyatta’s mouth with a wet little smack.

“Message me if anything is amiss.”

.o.

“G-Genji… hah… n-no…” His voice tilts up at the end, making his demand sound insincere and questioning. Not that the pet would have understood. Genji doesn’t make a sound; he simply pushes in deeper, his breath hot and humid, fanning against Zenyatta’s balls as he nudges between his legs.

His muzzle is lying to the side, forgotten after Zenyatta had carefully taken it off of him – seduced into it by Genji’s soft, docile cooing and the sweet glint in his eyes.

He’d all forgotten about the mechanics of the mask; how it had filtered all those interesting smells to not get the big dragon distracted, but oh how quickly he had gotten reminded.

Genji is gentle enough, he supposes; his large claws having carefully sliced Zenyatta’s thin leggings apart to get at the tender spots underneath, his long, strong tail whipping about and knocking over expensive furniture and pretty decorations.

Zenyatta hides his face behind his hands, moaning low and mortified, the sound choking off rather abruptly when he feels Genji’s tongue; long and serpentine as it slithers around his balls and then his cock, the split tip carefully, curiously tickling across the rosy glans.

“Genji!” he whispers against his fingers, scandalized, eyes going round with surprise as the huge dragon huffs and lets off of him just to crawl further up, large body easily blanketing him.

He can see their reflection in the dark screen of the large TV. He can’t believe Genji was doing this to him in the middle of the living room; with all the big windows, in the middle of the day…

Genji looks like he is grinning. His jaw is open, long, long, long tongue out and tickling the back of Zenyatta’s neck. His teeth are looking razor sharp, but he doesn’t seem inclined on using them any time soon. If any, he looks content with the situation.

And why should he not? He has his Master below him, warm and deceptively eager – nothing in the way of his…

“Oh…oh- o-o-… OH! G-G-GENJI!” Zenyatta grunts, rocking forward, arms curling around one massive claw right next to his head, eyes large and disbelieving at the wet nudge against the cleft of his ass.

In the reflection he can see the rough ridge of fur along Genji’s back stand up in excitement, his back curling into an arch, hips hunching down – and there it is again; the hot, wet drag of… of Genji’s… of his…

Zenyatta’s mouth drops open into a perfect, little oh. He is rooted to the spot, body hot and conflicted, staring at the large paw next to him, the sharp greenish claws digging into the expensive hardwood floor Mondatta had installed all over the house.

He feels the undulation of the large body above him, and again the dragon’s cock nudges against him; a brand along his skin as Genji is seeking, and seeking, and finding…

It is, impossibly enough, like his cock is having a mind on it’s own; carefully tickling long the cleft like the long tongue had done – and only when Genji rumbles, low and near-purring does Zenyatta realize he is moving into the touch; ass lifting, back forming a pretty little cup as he angles up into the creature…

His chest spasms when the tip catches against his dry rim, then glances off again. Despite having actively angled himself for it, he is surprised when Genji actually manages to find the target.

“Genji,” he whispers, smooth cheek pressing against the dragon’s strong arm. Zenyatta was no short man, but the pet was even larger; long and muscular and so very capable of getting its way if it would really put its mind to it.

Another swipe of the tail and another crash of the furniture.

Zenyatta’s ears are pulsing with the shame of it all when he feels Genji’s wet cock dribbling along his crack, the sensation making his hole clench and then bloom open, greedy and eager…

“Genji, no,” he says, whispers it, cheeks cherry red, smooth, nearly concave belly fluttering… everything inside him screaming Genji yes.

And then the pet hunches down once more, tongue out, lovingly tickling against Zenyatta’s ear, tasting him as his cock finally finds the target and he rocks in, the tip tapered and wet but still not enough for Zenyatta’s unprepared body.

Before he can cry out in alarm, however, another voice cuts through the air.

“Zenyatta!”

Zenyatta looks up, staring at the reflection in the TV – first at himself beneath Genji’s bulk, mouth hanging open, ass tilted up… then at Genji, maw stretched into an unmistakable grin as his body moves, humping, fucking… not getting deterred by the fact that Mondatta is right there at the door, his face a visage of shock, the folders he had been holding in his arms strewn across the floor.

“Z-Zenyatta!” his brother exclaims again, a little panicked lilt to his usually calm voice as he stumbles over, hands fluttering from Genji to his brother, seemingly unsure of what to do, as Genji fucks and crams his hot, thickening cock into the younger of his Masters -

And Zenyatta can’t do much; can’t explain himself because there is nothing to explain, not when his ass is on fire and his gut is so full with Genji’s cock sliding in deeper and deeper and deeper with seemingly no end in sight. He wonders if Genji will try to fuck right through his belly button, and the thought almost makes him forget the pain of his rim having to stretch around the pet’s cock.

He can hear the cracking of the floorboards as Genji stems his strong hind legs against it, long claws dug into the wood to get better leverage to fuck his Master – but most of all he can hear himself, positively wailing as his brother finally cups his face like he had done only hours before, thumbs so soft and soothing against his hot cheeks.

“Calm… Calm, Zenyatta,” Mondatta whispers against his lips, pressing little suckling kisses against them as Genji steadily works away on top of him, breeding his Master up almost gentle, his tongue still there, dragging against all the smooth, warm skin – and then curiously slipping between their lips.

“Everything is going to be fine, Zenyatta,” Mondatta murmurs, his own cheeks a dark red, eyes bright with… Zenyatta does not know what. He is petting across Zenyatta’s bald head, thumbing across the grid of dots above his eyebrows.

“Just… just let him take his fill… it will be over soon,” he croaks. “Just let him use your body…”

Zenyatta hiccups, wrenching his arms away from their clutch on Genji’s arm and throwing them around his brother’s shoulders; holding on for dear life as he got fucked by their pet, his cock chubby and pink between his smooth thighs.

Hearing his brother talk like that is doing things to him, even as Genji keeps dicking him deeper, still having more cock to cram into him, filling his intestines to an intense degree – to a point where Zenyatta is sure he had to push into his stomach sooner or later…

“Just let him use you,” Mondatta whispers into his ear, rubbing at his shoulders, both brothers getting rocked by Genji’s strong little thrusts into Zenyatta’s body. “I will rub you down later… take care of your body…”

Zenyatta groans, eyes slitted in pained pleasure, staring at their reflection in the screen and jerking in horrified lust as he sees the swell of his belly; pushed out like he is pregnant as their pet labors away above him.

“Oh… oh my,” he whispers, turning his head away, cock swinging between his thighs, dripping little pearls of pre-cum onto the floor. His rim is still burning from the intrusion; so very swollen and sensitive feeling, but he doesn’t think Genji is anywhere near done with him.

He doesn’t think Mondatta wants him to be anything near done with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?

**Author's Note:**

> Why don’t you visit me on my tumblr page?


End file.
